


i crumble completely when you cry

by ghostrider



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, but happy stuff too, ot5 undertones - Freeform, too much sad, ziam af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrider/pseuds/ghostrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall screws up with a psychic who puts a curse on him – “You’ll suffer,” she says. And he flips her off, because what a crazy ass woman is she? Stupid, old hag. The next day, however, he wakes up, badly hungover, to find his four best mates falling apart all around him.</p><p>(aka where each boy loses one of his senses: zayn can't see, liam can't speak, harry can't feel, niall can’t taste and louis can’t smell)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i crumble completely when you cry

**Author's Note:**

> since i don’t know anybody with a disability like the ones mentioned in this fic, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracy. also, i know that being ‘dumb’ comes with being ‘deaf’, hence the term ‘deaf and dumb’, and the fifth sense is actually the sense of ‘hearing’ and not ‘talking’, but well, i decided liam should only be dumb because he can’t be deaf too because fuck, I WOULD DIE WRITING THAT. so yeah, i've made my point.
> 
> also ps. this is based on a prompt that said that somebody started writing this senses AU on the 1dkinkmeme, but never finished it. so they wanted me to write this, and i guess i wanted to too and so i did and now we are here and i am nervous as fuck. (and lastly, even if this is a mess – written from all of the boys’ povs – this is ziam af.) (and i hope you like it.) (bye.)

(niall)

There is utter chaos in his head, a battle raging on. And it hurts, oh god, it hurts. He flutters his eyes open, only to be blinded by a bright light, which stings his eyes causing the lids to fall shut again. He curses in his pillow, trying to block every speck of light that is trying to fall on his face; this is without doubt, the worst hangover of all time.

He rolls over, groaning when he literally falls out his bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Standing up, he drags himself towards the bathroom and it feels like he is walking with a ton of bricks on his head, like his legs would give away any second. Maybe, he went over his drinking limit last night. Maybe, he got more smashed than he has ever got. It’s all mere speculation though, because to be honest, he doesn’t have the slightest idea of what went down last night.

He throws open the cabinet above the sink, once he is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, eyeing the red marks all over his neck. It looks like he did have a nice time after all, but with whom, that he can figure out later. He pops two Advils in his mouth, retrieving them from a small bottle that he had pulled out the cabinet. Placing the bottle back inside, he bends down, gulping a mouthful of water straight from the tap and swallowing the tablets with it. He splashes water on his face, takes a piss and makes extra effort in brushing his teeth. He doesn’t need a forensics team to tell him that his breath stinks of booze.

Scuffing his way back to his bed, he plops down on the edge, his feet on the floor and his head buried in his hands. He presses his palms against his forehead, trying to recall events from last night. He vaguely remembers the club he had been in, a number of people swaying around him. Pints and pints of alcohol being shoved into his hands by his friends, whose faces are now nothing but a hazy blur. A car ride, a lot of hooting and shouting through the windows. Being followed by fans, escaping to a nearby heavily crowded carnival. Running around wildly, maybe even jumping on a few rides, too smashed to even care. The vivid, suddenly striking, image of a woman with a smile so crooked and a face so wrinkled. Too many strings with beads around her head, her neck and her wrists. He wants to remember who she is and why her image is so vivid and bright behind his eyelids but he can’t. He thinks she has an important part to play in whatever happened last night, but he just can’t place her-

His pondering is cut short by a loud shriek that flows in through the doorway. The high pitch of that scream tells him it’s Zayn, the nature of the scream is such that it petrifies him to the core. And he is on his feet, rushing out his room’s door.

—-

(zayn)

There is a familiar heavy weight above him, pressing him into the mattress, that causes him to wake up. The moment he opens his eyes though, he is succumbed into darkness. Which he is very glad about because if there is no sunlight invading his room, it’s still night and he still has a lot of time to sleep and that is just brilliant! Because he has ten days off of their tour, and all he wants to do during the ten days is sleep, finish watching the latest season of Game Of Thrones, draw and paint, sleep some more, make out with Liam as much as he can, have sex with Liam as much as he can, cuddle with Liam as much as he can and sleep on Liam as much as he can.

Right now, however, the last task on his small list seems to be going the other way round. He doesn’t really have to turn around, or be able to see, to tell that the warm bare chest pressed behind his back is Liam’s. He is so sure this wasn’t the position they had initially lied down in, he is sure he had dosed off with his head on Liam’s chest; exhausted and beaten because Liam had made him orgasm about three times last night, in three different positions- anyway. It doesn’t surprise him though, because he is used to waking up beneath Liam’s huge frame; shrouded by the wide expanse of his chest, protected and hidden from the world. Safe, and home, and Liam’s. Yeah, he isn’t surprised, nor is he complaining. But he has an arm sandwiched between the mattress and his own body, and it is starting to hurt because of the pressure Liam’s body is causing upon him. So he kind of has to push his boyfriend off him, before he actually ends up dislocating his elbow.

Shifting a bit, he tries to squirm his way from underneath his boyfriend. Trying to turn around and face Liam, he nudges the bigger boy off his body. Liam groans a little, and he feels Liam’s eyes fluttering at the nape of his neck, before there is a tiny kiss placed there and then Liam moves away, falling on the other side of the bed, on his back. Without Liam covering it, his body is met by the coldness around him, and he uses that as an excuse to quickly scurry his way back to Liam. With scrambling hands, he finds Liam in the darkness again, and clings to him. This happens every day, thus explaining the practiced ease with which Liam’s arms go around him, keeping Zayn all to himself, again.

“You push me away, then you come crawling back to me,” Liam mutters in his hair.

He giggles in Liam’s chest, he can’t see Liam but he knows Liam is smiling, “I didn’t push you away, your weight was crushing my arm.”

“Zayn Malik, did you just call me fat?” Liam asks him, pretending to be hurt.

“Oh my god n-” he begins before stopping short. He caresses Liam’s nipple, that is digging into his left cheek, with his face and teases, “Or yeah, maybe I am. What you gonna do about it?”

Liam laughs, a throaty chuckle that somehow still makes the butterflies in his stomach break into weird ass dances.

“If it wasn’t 2 in the afternoon, I would have bent you over your art desk and shown you exactly what I’m gonna do about it.”

“What do you mean its 2 in the afternoon?” he asks, looking up to where Liam’s face should be.

“I mean… its 2 in the afternoon,” Liam answers; his hand coming down to caress his left cheek.

“What?”

“Yes, Zayn. Here, look.”

“How can I look, it’s so fucking dark in here!”

“Zee, babe, what are you talking about- are you okay?”

He feels Liam getting up, dragging him up as well, until they’re both sitting and he blinks hurriedly. Trying to find something in the darkness.

“Zayn look at me, here,” Liam has his face sandwiched between both his hands, “Wh-”

“Liam turn on the lights babe,” he says, blinking rapidly, “I can't see you-”

“Zayn, are you pulling a stupid on prank me? This is not funny.”

“No Liam, no I can’t-”

“What do you mean you can't see me, Zayn?” Liam's voice is laced with concern.

“I can’t, it’s so dark, maybe if you switched on the lights..” he tells Liam, his voice meek.

“It’s not dark,” Liam whispers slowly, “Zayn, the room is lit with sunlight.”

He blinks once, then twice. Then, “What do you mean? Liam. What?”

“For the last time Zayn, if this is some stupid joke, tell me please,” Liam is almost begging now, like he wants this to be a stupid joke, but it isn't!

“Liam I am not lying! Maybe the lights _are_ switched off!” he isn't making any sense anymore, he just wants the god damn lights to be off.

“I'm not fucking blind Zayn!”

“WELL I AM NOT BLIND EITHER!”

“Babe, babe,” Liam tries to calm him down. He has one of his hands behind Zayn's neck, “Listen okay, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Oh my god, fuck! I can't see Liam, IT'S SO FUCKING DARK I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING! I can’t see.. I can't see anything. I can't see anything.”

He is whispering to himself now, shaking his head vigorously as he touches his eyes in defeat. A chain of _‘i can't see’_ flowing out on his lips. He lets the message sink in, as the darkness around him becomes haunting. It terrorizes him.

Then, he screams.

And he screams.

And he screams.

He doesn’t stop. Tears fall out his eyes, eyes that can’t seem to focus on anything anymore.. He screams and thrashes wildly in Liam’s arms, helpless and weak. Because he has no idea why he can’t see, what has happened to him? WHAT? He doesn’t know anything, can't grasp what's just happened and so he shouts random words and curses. Liam’s voice is around him, all around him but he can’t stop. Dread is spreading all over him, and he screams again, into Liam’s shoulder, and Liam is sniffing above him _‘zayn baby zayn shh shh we’ll figure this out zayn sshhh’_ , and he waits and waits for this nightmare to end. It doesn't.

Instead, there is a sound of a door being thrown open, and Louis’ voice adds to Liam’s, “WHAT THE- ZAYN ZAYN ZAYN OH MY GOD ZAYN, ARE YOU OKAY?”

Then there are hands all over him, he knows the touches; it’s Louis’ in his hair and Niall’s going around his ankle while Liam still holds him firm around the waist. Harry isn’t there he thinks, or he’d be the first one all over him. He is glad Harry isn’t, he doesn’t want to scare Harry.

“What's going on Li?” Niall asks in a small voice, and Zayn can _only_ imagine how scared he must be looking right now.

He hears Liam sniff loudly above him, he feels him take a deep breath and then Liam kisses his forehead and opens his mouth to reply-

—-

(liam)

He hates everything because he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t understand. How can Zayn not see? He was fucking fine last night, he doesn’t even have major eyesight problems, he is so perplexed right now, he doesn’t even know what to do, _how_ to do, except hold Zayn like this for the rest of his life and cry with him.

Niall and Louis are looking at him right now, expecting an answer while Zayn still clings, his face hidden in his neck, where he is crying through his sightless eyes. He has no idea what to tell them and how to explain this to them, saying things loud just make them more real. But he has to- he has to tell someone.

Finally, dropping a kiss on Zayn’s forehead (he is just mustering up some courage), he opens his mouth to speak.

Only that no words come out. Liam tries again, maybe he is just at a loss of words, and he is so shocked he can’t even speak.

“Take your time Li,” Louis says, probably understanding Liam’s state.

He tries again, _‘zayn woke up today and he suddenly can’t see anything’,_ the words are there on his mind, he is saying them but he can’t hear them and by the looks of it so can’t Louis and Niall.

“Liam, are you okay?” Louis asks concerned, “Do you need some water?”

 _‘No no I am fine. I am trying to tell you that Zayn isn’t fine..’_ he attempts to speak again. He is making no sound, just opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Realization is slowly dawning on him, Zayn’s hands have somehow made there way to his face now, he looks down to see Zayn’s eyes on him. It breaks him because he knows Zayn can’t see him, yet the pupils in Zayn’s eyes seem to roam around his face, not focusing anywhere, as he asks in a small, hoarse voice, “Liam, love, what’s going on?”

 _‘Nothing babe, I am fine,’_ he gives it another try; his blood curdling because he knows now that he can’t speak. Zayn has lost his eyesight, he has lost his voice; it’s an implausible idea, and yet it is happening.

“LIAM TALK TO ME LIAM,” Zayn shouts at him, his nails digging in his shoulders, “LIAM PLEASE TELL ME WHATS GOING ON LIAM I CANT SEE YOU LI WHATS HAPPENING BABE I NEED YOU TO TELL ME LIAM.”

Zayn is freaking out, crying helpless again, and Louis is still looking at the two of them, anxiously, “Liam can you not speak, buddy?”

He nods at Louis, keeping his tears inside because he cannot afford to fall apart right now, not with Zayn in such a fragile state.

Louis places a hand on Zayn’s shoulder then, “And you, what did you mean when you said you can’t _see_ Liam?”

“I MEANT THAT I AM FUCKING BLIND NOW,” Zayn explodes, “AND NOW APPARENTLY LIAM IS NOT FUCKING TALKING TO ME!”

His iron grip around Zayn turns into a death grip as he pulls him closer and holds the teary boy’s face in his hands. He wants to tell him he isn’t staying quiet by choice, he doesn’t think he can go a day without talking to Zayn _fuck_. He presses his lips against Zayn’s quivering ones, tries to pour every ounce of emotion in that kiss; the things he can’t explain and the things he wants to say. Zayn kisses back, with the same amount of desperation; his tears refusing to be withheld.

“He does want to talk to you Zayner, he seems to have lost his voice,” Louis states lowly, “Just like you have lost your sight. Apparently.”

“Oh my god,” Zayn says, as he pulls his lips away from Liam’s. Liam instantly presses his forehead against Zayn’s, he just can’t (won't) let go. Zayn whispers, “What is happening?”

He just shakes his head against Zayn's, so that Zayn can feel it, _‘I don’t know, love.’_

Zayn’s face escapes to hide in his neck again. Louis is pacing around the room now, his forehead a canvas of anxious lines. Niall is sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands, clearly as shocked and worried as any of them. Suddenly, Louis halts in front of Liam.

“Put your shirts on both of you,” he orders him and Zayn, “We have to call Paul, and also a doctor. Meet us in the living room, okay?”

He nods at Louis, feeling Zayn snivel loudly in his neck. His hands automatically slide up into Zayn’s hair, rubbing his scalp lightly, _‘it’ll be fine z’_.

“C’mon Niall,” Louis says, turning around and walking towards the door, “Dial Paul’s, I’ll go wake up Harry.”

Once the two boys are out of their room, Liam pulls a little away from Zayn who is still on Liam’s lap, curled up into him, his arms wounded around him. He looks at Zayn’s face, who has his eyes closed tightly, his long eyelashes wet. He can feel the wetness Zayn’s tears have left behind on his neck. He knows if Zayn opened his eyes right now, they’d be red-rimmed and bloodshot. He had seen those before; when Zayn’s grandfather died, when Zayn’s little cousin was diagnosed with a tumor and he couldn’t visit her, when Zayn had to get engaged… He had seen those eyes, he didn’t like them one bit.

“Li..” Zayn says, lightly.

He wishes he could say, _‘yes my sunshine’_ , but he can’t. So he does what he can; wipes the tears off Zayn’s face. He kisses Zayn’s forehead then, the tip of his nose, his wet cheeks, his tears, every inch of his face until Zayn finally begins to look less broken.

“I love you, Li.” Zayn whispers to him when he is done. He presses a wet kiss on his lips in response. _‘i love you too.’_

Very reluctantly, he disentangles himself from Zayn, who whines in protest but let’s go all the same. He watches as Zayn scrambles around for the sheets around him and hugs them to his chest, as he sits in the middle of their bed with his eyes shut, looking lost yet breathtaking in a way. Averting his gaze from Zayn, he trots over to the cupboard, pulls out two of his shirts and the first pair of trousers he can get his hands on. For himself, he grabs a pair of light blue denim shorts.

He gets to the bed again, Zayn still sitting in the same place, his head bowed down now. Placing the clothes on the bed, he reaches for Zayn. The moment his hand touches Zayn’s arm, Zayn’s hand is already clasped around his wrist.

“Don’t go away again, I feel so...” Zayn doesn't finish. He doesn't need to; the fearful expression on his face tells Liam all that he needs to know.

He pulls Zayn forward, making him crawl towards the edge of the bed, drops a kiss in his hair and then slides a hand under his knees to lift him up in his arms. He carries Zayn to the bathroom, while Zayn breathes heavily in his chest, not questioning anything, not jumping off like he normally would. So light in his arms.

Once he has Zayn standing under the shower, he helps him get out of his boxers. Doing the same for himself, after. Zayn startles when the water falls on him, but Liam is right in front of him to pull him close. His hands firm on either side of Zayn’s waist, like a promise – _‘i got you’_. He helps Zayn wash up, while Zayn keeps one of his hands placed firmly on his shoulder. He helps him do everything that needs to be done, before carrying him back out and drying him up with a towel.

Before putting his own clothes on, he assists Zayn in sliding into his pants and shirt; the black shirt too large for Zayn’s frame.

“This is your shirt,” Zayn murmurs, whilst Liam is pulling up his own shorts, and Zayn’s lips are a bit curved up from one side. Like he is trying to smile, but failing because he has lost the power or ability to do that.

“I like it,” Zayn adds.

Liam pulls on his red jersey, and ruffles Zayn’s wet hair.

‘i know you do.’

—-

(harry)

He wakes up to Louis losing his mind.

His eyes flutter open and apparently, Louis is shaking him and there is a kind of dread in his eyes that Harry has never seen before.

“What is wrong Lou?” he asks, his voice cracking a bit due to the sleepiness that still hangs heavy.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, “Are you fine Haz?”

Louis’ hand is on his head, and its moving, he can see its moving, but Harry doesn’t feel Louis’ palm. Maybe he isn’t fully awake yet, “Yeah yeah, I am fine, why?”

He sits up, Louis moves back to give him space, and blurts, “Zayn has lost his eyesight and Liam can’t speak! I don’t know what’s going on! So I was checking on you, you can hear me right, you can see right?”

“What are you saying?”

“YES! ITS RIDICULOUS! But it’s true! Zayn woke up blind, Liam lost his voice minutes after!”

“Louis-”

“Thank fuck, you’re okay though. I got so scared when you wouldn’t wake up! Oh my god,” Louis holds his face and kisses him on the lips.

Harry sees that. And that’s all. He just sees that. He doesn’t feel the press of Louis’ hands on his face, he doesn’t feel the texture of Louis’ lips against his.

“C’mon now, we are calling Paul and a doctor before Zayn loses his mind,” Louis explains before Harry can voice anything, “He looked like he was close to a nervous breakdown! Can you believe it Hazza, our Zayn can’t see! Oh Jesus, what is happening?!”

Harry swallows his words at that, he hasn’t seen Louis like this ever in his life; disoriented and panicky.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says instead, “Let me just put a shirt on.” He reaches out to hold Louis’ hand, doesn’t feel the warmth of it against his palm, and kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, be quick,” Louis says, and gets up.

When Louis exits does Harry start to freak out. He puts his feet down, getting out of his bed, anticipating the cold floor to send shivers up his legs. But the coldness or the shivers never come. It feels like he is a lightweight, standing on air. Flying. He can’t feel anything. He walks towards the window; he throws it open and lets the sunlight fall on his face. It is blinding to his eyes, but the skin on his face, refuses to sense the heat.

“What the fuck?” he curses, “What is wrong with me?”

And he is crying now, he knows because his vision has blurred. The tears on his face don’t make their presence known to him, anymore. The numbness is too much to handle, he feels so weird, he can't even-

He falls on his knees, right below the window sill, and he hears the loud thud of knees against the floor, but no- his knees don’t feel it. He doesn’t know what’s happening, or why is it happening, or fucking _how_ it is happening...

Sensations are lost on him, he is scared out of his mind, he needs Louis. He needs Zayn. _Zayn._ Harry is getting up with that thought, running to the washroom, splashing his face with water that’s supposed to be cold and stinging to his face muscles. But it’s not fucking doing it. He checks himself in the mirror, rinses his eyes. Then grabs the olive green sweatshirt hanging on the hook behind the door and pulls it on. Doesn't make a difference, the cotton is unknown to his skin. Before he can lament over that though, he is rushing out the washroom, switching off the lights, and running out the door.

Trying his level best not to pay attention to the fact that he feels like there is nothing beneath his feet, like he is floating on air.

—-

(louis)

He has five pairs of eyes on him as he speaks; Harry's (who is standing beside him with his hands tied behind his back and his foot tapping incessantly on the ground), Niall's (who is sitting beside Liam chewing his bottom lip in nervousness), Liam's (who has lips pressed to Zayn's (who is still glued to Liam's lap, with his face still hidden from the world) head), Paul's (who is standing right in front of him with his arms folded above his chest) and Dr. Bajaj (who Paul had brought with him and who has already checked Liam and Zayn and declared them to be perfect in health, failing to find a cause of their sudden impairments).

“There's got to be something you can do,” he says to the doctor.

“I am a specialist in a lot of areas Louis, and these two are completely healthy and showing no signs as to what have caused this,” Dr. Bajaj is saying, “I mean typically, when somebody is dumb, it's because of congenital deafness. The fact that your friend can hear perfectly, (he gives Liam a nod to affirm that, receiving a nod back), makes Liam's case an anomaly. As for Zayn, his pupils are completely fine, they are reacting to light as normally as anybody's would. Nothing explains why he has lost his sight, we don't usually have cases like these.”

“This doesn't make sense,” Paul states what everyone in the room is already thinking.

“You can get them checked from a hospital as well if you want, run tests and all. But I assure you, they will all tell you what I just have,” Dr. Bajaj responds.

“No, I don't think this should get out,” Paul denies, “We have had you for ages, we trust you.”

“Are you _fucking_ serious?” Louis interjects, “We should take them to the hospital and we should get them properly checked!”

“Louis, we can't risk this getting out. You need to calm down, I'll do everything I can, okay? I'll bring in more doctors in if need be, but you do know Mr. Bajaj is the best here. He has been looking after you guys since the beginning,” Paul states firmly.

Louis can't fucking _believe_ him right now.

“We'd like to have at least two or three doctors here Paul,” Harry speaks for him, “It's better to make sure.”

Paul nods at him, “Okay. I'll see what I can do. Are you, Niall and Harry all fine?”

“Do we look like we are fuc-”

“Health wise, Louis. I meant, health wise.”

“Oh,” Louis bites his tongue, “Yeah- yeah I am fine. Nialler?”

“Fine, yeah.”

“Hazza?”

“I'm okay.”

“Good,” Paul says, “I will go call the manager now. See what needs to be done. Bring in more help, contact more doctors. Ring me if anything happens okay, and you both, Liam and Zayn? Keep holding it up boys, everything will be okay.”

It's a futile attempt at consolation, they all know that, but they nod in synchronization anyway, just as Paul walks away and exits through the front door, Dr. Bajaj in tow.

—-

(niall)

If his head had been pounding before, now it has just- it has just given up on everything actually.

He looks at Liam and Zayn, and he wants to tear his eyes away from them because it's too much to handle. Liam is pallid as fuck, he hasn't seen him like this ever. Zayn's face, he hasn't seen since Zayn refuses to pull it out of the crook of Liam's neck. And when Liam tries to make him, he covers it with his hands and starts shaking his head violently. He looks too tiny in Liam's lap. It crushes Niall, because Zayn isn't like this. Liam isn't like this! And why is God doing this to them, to him!?

“Niall and I will get you guys something to eat," Louis says, getting up from where he is sitting beside Harry. “Haz, you stay with them yeah? In case they need anything.”

Harry nods, standing up to take Niall's place when he vacates it. He follows Louis into the kitchen. Once inside, Louis wordlessly starts pulling out random items from the fridge; eggs, bread, milk, Nutella, peanut butter and jelly, frozen strips of bacon and a jar of chicken spread.

“So apparently, we are going to have breakfast at four in the afternoon,” he comments, pulling out a frying and a sauce pan out of a cabinet anyway.

“You can make a fucking pizza if you're in the mood,” Louis mutters back angrily.

“Hey,” he says back, “Lou, please chill. I was just trying to lighten things up. We need to keep our heads together, for Liam and Zayn, yeah?”

He feels like a hypocrite saying stuff like that, since he is pretty much falling apart inside.

Louis heaves a sigh, “I am sorry Nialler, this is just so fucked up. I mean, I can't see Liam like that. So- so-”

“Helpless.”

“Yeah.”

“It'll be fine, Lou. I don't know how, but we can- we can figure something out.”

“What if we don't? What if Zayn never sees again? What if Liam can't ever sing? God, that would crush him!”

He nearly drops the frying pan, “Please don't say that.”

Louis shrugs at him, a hopeless, somber kind of shrug, “I'm just- I can't- Niall.”

“We aren't giving up Louis, we aren't okay? Let's make breakfast now, I am famished and I am sure the lads are too,” he changes the subject, just not ready to deal with the horrific possibilities.

“I'll fry the eggs, you get the toaster out,” Louis obliges, placing the items on the shelf, and taking the frying pan from him.

He does as he is told. Proceeding to put the kettle on once he's plugged in the toaster. It's when he is putting chicken spread on a toast for Zayn, that he smells it.

He turns around, to find Louis standing in front of the stove, staring at the wall in front of him, not paying attention to the very black eggs sizzling on the frying pan.

“Louis!” he shrieks, causing Louis to startle and turn around, irritated.

“What, Niall?”

“The bloody eggs are burning!” he exclaims, placing the toast on the dish on the counter, and moving towards Louis.

Louis looks at him with a stunned expression for a moment, and then turns back to the eggs with a confused expression.

—-

(louis)

They're rotten, black, burnt and giving out smoke that stings Louis’ eyes. Before he can do anything though, Niall is grabbing the frying pan by the handle and dumping the bad eggs in the bin, snapping its lid shut and shoving the frying pan into the wet sink.

“Fuck Lou, you're in shock mate,” Niall tells him, “Go to the lads, before you make another mess.”

But he just can't help staring at the smoke that still looms over them, he sniffs at it.

“I didn't realize they were burning,” he says to Niall, who is turning back to whatever he had been doing at the counter.

“Seriously?” Niall asks, turning around to look at him, “Don't tell me you didn't smell them!”

“I didn't,” he confesses, his face scrunching up in worry.

“Yeah, because you're worrying too much Lou,” Niall's face changes to that of concern, “Go, I can make sandwiches for all of us. I'll also make tea, yeah? You go, you need-”

“No Nialler, I _literally_ couldn't smell it.”

“What?”

“I still can't smell it. I see the smoke,” he glances towards the frying pan, “But I _can't_ smell it.”

“What- _oh_ ,” Niall says, knowingness in his eyes.

He really needs to sit down right now, because the weirdness happening around him (to him) is too much to take (to believe).

“Louis...” Niall begins hesitantly, “Could you- did you- since when do you think you can't smell things?”

“I don't know,” he answers, the defeat in his voice so clear that Niall is already pushing a stool towards him, proceeding to get a glass of water for his friend.

He plops down on the stool, takes the glass of water from Niall's hand and downs it in one go. He recalls everything that happened since the morning, maybe he was too caught up and frustrated to realize that he had lost his sense of smell.

“This is absurd,” Niall mutters, “With Zayn losing his sight and Liam his voice and now you cannot smell stuff..”

He sniffs again, harder. Trying.

Nothing.

He probably wouldn’t have believed he couldn’t smell anymore so easily, if Zayn and Liam hadn’t lost one of their abilities a few hours ago. But he had seen his friends and so he just accepts it. Even when he knows how this is freaking unbelievable. It’s not like this happens to everybody; one day you wake up and you discover that you and your best friends have lost one of their senses. He is sure it hasn't happened to anyone in history.

“Lou, say something,” he hears Niall whisper loudly.

He focuses his eyes on the lad, who is now kneeling in front of his chair, looking just as puzzled, “What is there to say Niall? I don’t understand what is happening to us either.”

Niall opens his mouth to say something, probably, and then shuts it. Louis can empathize; he knows he’s also wearing the same miserable expression Niall is wearing right now.

“I am glad that you and Harry are alright though,” he tells Niall, trying to lessen the misery.

“Yeah, but who knows for how long?” Niall says.

“Don’t say that Horan,” he scolds, his hand going out to clutch Niall’s shoulder tightly.

“But Lou- it doesn’t make sense okay? What did you, Liam or Zayn do that Haz and I didn’t?”

“I don’t know! But that doesn’t mean you start talking shit.”

“I am not talking shit. Right now, I am the only one who’s actually making any sense!” Niall retorts.

“You don’t even know what you’re saying, let’s just make food okay?” he gets up, grabbing two more eggs from the carton. He’ll call Paul later about this new discovery of him not being able to smell. And Niall also just needs to stop jumping to the worst conclusions right now.

But Niall is an asshole. Sometimes.

“Look Lou, Liam lost his voice, Zayn his eyesight, you your smelling- we are all losing one of our senses one by one! Can't you see?!”

“So what are you trying to say?” he asks him agitatedly, “Next Haz won’t be able to hear and you won’t be able to what- taste, feel, WHAT?”

“Well, I can sure as hell hear alright,” Niall flinches at the sudden raise in Louis’ voice, “I can feel too yeah, taste…” Niall trails off, and then he turns around and walks to the counter. Picking up the Nutella jar, he unscrews the lid, and digs his finger inside the chocolate. Pulling out a now chocolate covered finger, Niall glances at him.

He nods.

And Niall sighs heavily, putting the finger in his mouth. And he feels a fist grab his heart because Niall goes absolutely pale all of a sudden, with his eyes screwed shut as he pulls his finger out of his mouth; licked clean.

“Niall?” he asks anyway, praying in his heart even when he already kind of knows.

“Yeah,” Niall puts the jar back on the counter, opens his eyes and looks back at him with his moist eyes, “We definitely _are_ losing our senses one by one.”

—-

(harry)

He has his head on Liam’s shoulder, because he had wanted that comfort that comes from just being in contact with someone’s skin, from someone just _being_ there. But it’s of no use. There is no comfort, no feel of Liam’s shoulder under his head.

Maybe he should have told Paul, how he felt all numb and dead. But that would have just made matters worse; Louis was already freaking out, if he knew about Harry’s condition, he might just- Harry really doesn’t want to know. Also, he’ll just wait it out. When they’ll figure out what happened to Liam and Zayn, Harry will also know what happened to him. It’s as simple as that!

Plus, right now, he needs to focus on Zayn and Liam, who clearly have it a lot worse. A few minutes ago, Zayn had pulled his head out from Liam’s neck, to blink a few times. Liam’s hands had quickly gone up to hold his face as he did so; scrunching his eyes and blinking rapidly. Liam had glanced at Harry then, his head titling towards Zayn as if indicating Harry to ask Zayn what was up.

So, he had asked, “What’s wrong Zee?”

And Zayn had let out a heart wrenching sound at that, burying his head in the hollow of Liam’s neck again. (for which he is thankful, because the mask of desolation splayed over zayn’s face had shattered his heart.)

“Zayn, tell me, what’s wrong?” Harry had pushed him, because Liam looked just right about to cry and Harry wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Nothing, I was checking if I could see. Or even sense any light,” Zayn murmured, “I can't.”

Liam had kissed his cheek, his hand rubbing circles over Zayn’s back.

“You’ll be fine, Zayner,” Harry had said, not at all surprised when Zayn snorted and Liam gave him a hopeless look.

He had just shrugged at him, reclining back to put his head back on Liam’s shoulder which didn't feel like anything but whatever.

He is still in that position when Louis stamps out of the kitchen with Niall behind him, and they look more pale in the face than they looked before.

“Where is the food?” he asks, when he sees that Niall is holding just a glass of water and Louis is empty handed.

“Can you hear me?” Louis asks him.

“Yeah, why? What’s the matter?” he asks, confused.

Then Louis glances at Niall, who moves forward and offers him the glass of water.

“I don’t want-”

“It’s not for you to drink, put a finger in this,” Niall explains.

“Why?” he asks.

“Just do it,” Louis orders.

And so he does.

“There. Now what?” he asks, once his entire index finger is merged in the water.

“Is the water hot or cold?” Louis asks.

He feels his throat constrict. Why is Louis asking-

“Tell me, Harry,” Louis says again.

“It’s cold,” he takes a wild guess (louis would never ask him to put a finger in hot water, he is sure).

Niall pulls the glass away, and says with a pensive tone, “No mate, it isn’t. I boiled it until it was warm enough to not burn your hands.”

Louis’ face looks like he has just seen a ghost, “Since when can’t you feel anything?”

There is a pause before he decides to speak.

“Since you woke me up,” he says, honestly.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to make matters worse.”

That surprisingly earns him a slap from Liam on his face, but it doesn’t hurt, his face just jerks to the opposite side.

“Liam, that didn’t hurt,” he tells him, and he can’t help if there is a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Are you serious? Are you seriously fucking serious, Harry?” Louis reprimands him, incredulity on his face, “You didn't want to make matters worse? What-”

“Listen Lou- I just- when you said those things about Zayn and Liam- I just couldn’t pile up my- fuck, I didn't even realize then- I found out after you left- okay- I just thought I’d be okay soon- I just- I don’t know- fuck!” he is on his feet now, he doesn’t know why but he does know this that any excuse in the world couldn't make Louis look less furious right now, so he just asks instead, “How did you even know? How did you know about me and this- this thing?”

Niall is the one who answers, “I can’t taste anything and Lou can’t smell anything.”

—-

(liam)

It feels like Niall has just dropped a massive bomb on him. It's not only his Zayn, it's all of his boys. All of his babies. And he can't even speak to console them, to tell them that they'll be alright.

His heart is beating erratically, as nervousness takes over him. He is so proud of Louis, taking charge like this and protecting them as well as he can. But Louis keeps glancing at him again and again, and Liam knows those eyes. Louis’ asking him if he's doing alright, even when Louis is the eldest he fucking needs to ask that and it just fills Liam's heart with adoration for his band mate. So he tries and gives his moral support to the eldest lad by blinking slowly at him, and it's been working pretty fine till now.

He still wishes he could speak though, why couldn't he be the one who lost his smelling ability? If he could just speak, if he could just tell Zayn that he isn't alone, that he needs to be strong. If he could just console his boys, wipe the beaten expressions off their faces. If he was just able to fucking do something, anything! By contacting people, by asking around but no. He can't do that. Because he had probably murdered someone in his past life and now he's fucking paying for it.

What he can do though, is this; he opens both his arms, with Zayn still on his lap (his legs thrown over Liam's left thigh) (his lanky arms going around Liam's waist when he feels Liam's disappear from around him), and beckons for his boys. Louis is the first one to come forward and plop beside him, his arm going around Louis and pulling him close. Niall is next, his left cheek pressing against Zayn's head as he joins in the hug. Harry is last, sitting on Louis, positioning Zayn's legs on his own, with his face resting on Liam's shoulder. Zayn's hand goes out to clutch Harry's sweatshirt from the front, pulling him closer to himself and Liam allows that just because. They sit there, none of them comfortable but this is all they need maybe; the knowledge of them still being one. And together.

One of his arms is around Niall and the other around Louis’ neck, as he pulls them closer. Harry and Zayn are tangled on his lap and Louis’, and he thinks about how cute this little huddle of his boys might look to a spectator. He just wants to cry.

But he doesn't.

Because Zayn and Harry are already doing that; Harry sniffing nothings into Zayn's hair which Liam can not make out. And Louis is rubbing soft circles at the back of his neck which are keeping him calm.

It's funny, how they have so much trust in him, how they’re all clinging to him like he's their rock as he tries to hold them close, when really, he feels like he is nothing at all.

—-

(zayn)

When he was three years old, his cousin had accidentally locked him in a store room. It was dark in there, dark as fuck. He had cried his eyes out until his father had rescued him from the blackness. That memory had stuck with him for all these years, and now he's living it again.

The worst part is, this time he does not think there's any saving him.

He has never heard of people getting their eyesight back once they went totally blind. But then again, he hasn't ever heard about anybody suddenly going completely blind either. It's all so fucked up. And it's all so dreadful.

There are horrendous thoughts at the back of his mind, the various consequences of his... situation. So many thoughts he's trying not to ponder upon. Because (1) he is so damn exhausted; clinging to Liam while two other doctors checked on him had drained all energy out of him and (2) his blood curdles when that one thought of him not being able to draw again tries to make its way through. So yeah, he isn't going to think about that.

Instead, he's going to focus on Liam (whom he'd never be able to see again- _shut up_ ) who's voice he's been craving to hear. It kills him, the fact that Liam can't speak, it just tears him apart because he knows, he understand how Liam wants to be the one leading them right now. Taking care of them, playing his role of being the sensible, protective one right now. But he can't do that and he knows it hurts Liam. It makes him feel useless, Liam doesn't like feeling useless.

Zayn wants to console Liam, wants to be there for him but he can't even get up from this fucking bed (where Liam had placed him, so tenderly) and go find him right now! This is so pathetic! This is just- he feels like a burden, is what it is.

Niall, Louis, Harry and Liam; all four can at least manage to get up and walk by themselves. But him, no no no. He _needs_ somebody to help him do _everything_. It sucks to not be able to go and get a glass of water for himself, he can't even fucking tell the time god damn it! It sucks. And he hates depending on Liam like this- Liam. Liam who has been by his side since the moment he had opened his god damn eyes today. Liam who loves him so much that he had fed him food from his own hands, helped him pee, didn't leave his hand when the third doctor was scrutinizing him, carried him to the bed (to everywhere), helped him out of his clothes, kissed him when he wanted, lighted him a cigarette and now is in the kitchen probably making him his midnight tea. Liam fucking Liam, he knows he can't ever thank god for giving him such an amazing person to belong to, to love.

It's not his fault if thinking about Liam makes him smile even in the most grievous of states. And it's also not his fault when he startles at the sudden press of lips against the curve of his lips.

It's a momentary startle though, because then he's easing into the gentle touch because it is Liam kissing him.

“I was just thinking about you,” he says the moment Liam pulls away and there's another wet kiss being placed on his forehead. He feels Liam climb over him to his side of the bed, a moment later.

He feels Liam sit besides him, his arm going around his shoulder and pulling him to his side. Liam's hand covers one of his and seconds later, his hand is clasping around a warm cup of tea, guided by Liam's. He gets the message and manages to pick up the cup, without spilling his tea which like always Liam has warmed down enough for him to not scald his hand or tongue.

“Thanks babe,” he says, turning his head to where he thinks Liam is. He opens his eyes then, for the first time since he had done it for the doctor. There's no use of opening his eyes though, he can't see Liam. But he keeps them open, he just wants to.

“Li babe,” he begins, his throat constricting, “I just want you to know, that you're the best okay? You're what's keeping everyone sane right now. You make us- me, strong.”

He hears Liam sniff, and pull him a bit more closer.

“I love you Li, and I am sorry for being such- so difficult to handle right now but if I am stuck like this forever, I promise-”

A hand on his mouth silences him.

And a finger is tracing a pattern on the side his stomach.

He knows it's not Liam idly doing it, because the finger presses into his skin in an urgent way. So he pays attention and realizes that Liam just drew an ‘N’ – Liam is trying to communicate.

“Write that from the beginning,” he says

The finger pauses and Liam starts again.

_  
D_

_O_

_N_

_T_

_S_

_A_

_Y_

_T_

_H_

_A_

_T_

_A_

_C_

_A_

_I_

_N_

_DONT SAY THAT ACAIN_

_‘Don't say that again.’_

Zayn smiles, “I'm sorry. I just- I love you, Liam. So much.”

_T_

_E_

_A_

__  
“Yeah yeah, drinking babe,” he brings the cup to his mouth and sips. Liam's fingers don't stop massaging his scalp while he finishes his tea. Then the cup is taken away from his hands, before he is being tucked into bed.

Normally, he'd be getting out of bed to go rinse his mouth before coming back but he can't do that anymore. He'd ask Liam to do it if Liam wasn't already licking his mouth clean off all the taste of tea, replacing it with a solid, minty one that he has always associated with Liam.

He hides his face in Liam's chest once Liam is done kissing him breathless, and curls up into him like he always does. Liam is enveloping him in his arms, and drawing another pattern on his back.

_‘N I G H T B A B Y.’_

“Night, love.”

He feels Liam pull the covers over them, and then kiss him on the head before slumber takes him.

—-

(louis)

The moment he opens his eyes, yesterday’s events come crashing back on him.

There's Harry curled behind him, in the same desolate position he had slept in last night. He turns around and digs his nose into Harry's long hair which are all over the place. He sniffs, silently hoping for the whiff of Harry's banana shampoo.

It doesn't come, he smells nothing. Yesterday wasn't a nightmare, _fuck_. Giving a capitulating sigh, he resents to staring at Harry instead, whose curly brown hair (so so long now) cover most of his face. He’ll never understand how such long hair don't irritate his Harry, but he doesn't really care. For all it matters, Harry could have hair the length of Tangled’s Rapunzel and he would still love him with everything he has.

(and when harry is on stage, his hair wet with sweat, all over the place of tied in a bun above his head, oh god, don't even make him start on that. because sometimes he likes to just pause for a moment, and admire the beauty that his boyfriend is.)

He reaches out and moves Harry's hair off of his cheek with his fingers. He caresses his cheek then, before his eyes are brimming with tears because normally he'd see Harry's lips curve up in a soft smile at the touch. He lets the tears fall because as much as he touches Harry, Harry won't feel it. Maybe, he'd never.

His heart stops beating for a second at that thought and he wants to just punch something. Instead, he just intertwines his fingers with Harry's and starts to kiss every knuckle as a water stream breaks lose behind his eyes and he let's go off his equanimity.

He cries then, he cries kissing his boyfriend's hands who is fast asleep beside him. Harry's breathing, yes he is, with his body rising and falling in a familiar pattern. But he doesn't react to Louis’ actions, he doesn't wake up. He doesn't even shift his position, playfully pushing Louis’ away, telling him to let him sleep for five more minutes!

Louis wants to fucking shut down his system! He doesn't want to live in a world where the people he loves most are suffering! This is fucking torture.

—-

(niall)

He never thought he'd say this, but food makes him cringe now.

Staring at the bowl of Fruit Loops in front of him, he can not bring himself to grab the spoon and actually eat some. Because all he is going to do is feel a slimy gross lump on his tongue which will be tasteless as fuck. And he's going to swallow it without chewing because what's the point.

He thinks he could also eat stuff like Vegemite and broccoli and it wouldn't make much of a difference. The thought in itself is dejecting.

Actually, everything around him is. Depressing.

It's been two days since one of his friend's truly smiled in the house. Two days since they each lost of their senses. Two days since he had eaten anything properly.

Yesterday had been hectic. And it had been tormenting; their manager had visited. His face was a mask of incredulousness and devastation. He had brought a doctor with him, and a female psychiatrist, Dr. Mariah.

She had taken them inside a room one by one. He was the first one to go. She had asked him to relate the ongoing events to her. Asked him how he felt about his friends suffering like this, how he felt about himself in this condition. He had been brutally honest about everything, not knowing what else to say except the truth, while she had listened intently and scribbled furiously on her notepad.

Louis was to go next. He didn't stay in for a long time, but when he came back, the moisture in his eyes spoke volumes. Harry went after him; came back with a broken smile (directed at Louis) and blankness in his eyes.

Liam was summoned next and he was obviously summoned alone. They had to hold Zayn back, whose hands refused to let go of Liam's shirt. Who clung to Harry like his life depended on him while Liam left him back, the look in his eyes capable of shattering the most stony of hearts. Liam was in the room the longest. And then he came back, and held Zayn's hand to lead him into the room. Niall heard a protesting sound that sounded a lot like Zayn telling Liam to not go and stay with him, and when Liam didn't come out of the room, he knew that Dr. Mariah probably had let Liam stay.

When Dr. Mariah was done, she and their manager stood in the corner, whisper-discussing their situation most probably. They hadn't been told anything nor given anything (advice, medication, results, not anything). Except that their manager had told them to stay inside and give him or Paul a call if something was needed or happened. And then he and Dr. Mariah were leaving, without another word, leaving them behind on the couch, all by themselves.

Silence had hung over them, and he had hated it. Until Louis had stood up and decided to cook something _happy_ for all of them. Louis had been doing a lot of cooking, lately. And Niall knew why; he just didn't _know_ what else to do. It was endearing as well as surprising how Louis had taken the reigns, pulling them together and trying to do stuff just for them, just for the sake of making them feel good even when it didn't seem (or wasn't) possible.

‘Zayn, babe, would you let Liam help me in the kitchen?’ Louis had asked Zayn, who was sitting in the hook of Liam's left arm, glued to his left side.

Surprisingly, Zayn had nodded, his eyes still closed. And he had let go of Liam, his hand reaching out, with a whisper of, ‘Haz. Niall.’

Harry had jumped beside him and pulled him close, ’Yeah, we're both here.’

And Niall had taken the other side, rubbing his shoulder in consolation, ‘Not leaving.’

He knew why Louis asked Liam to help him, he wanted to talk to Liam. Liam had been carrying a notepad around, and he had started scribbling his replies to them on it. Sometimes he even used the 'Notes' App in his phone to convey his message (to all of them but Zayn). So surely, Louis had wanted to talk to him about something and Niall knows because Louis had even come to him last night.

His eldest band mate had sat on his bed telling him to just carry on like everything was normal. Because that's all what they could do at the moment.

‘We’re not fucking giving up Niall, we are still the same even if we aren't. Do you understand?’ Louis had said.

And he had nodded bravely, even when he didn't understand.

But Louis’ words had a lot of reality and truth to them. What could they do besides carrying on, anyway? So he had decided, he wasn't going to let this change him (or anything).

And Liam had agreed too, because right now he isn't home. He is out for his morning jog, while Zayn still sleeps. Just like everyday before this nightmare crashed on them.

Louis and Harry are sitting on the rug in front of their LCD, bickering over what to watch while they eat their cereal. While he sits on the couch with his legs spread out, and a plate of untouched bacon and eggs on his lap while he scrolls down his twitter timeline.

Fans asking why their boys have been MIA all of a sudden. So he decides to send out reassuring tweets, the sound of playful familiar voices in the background.

—-

(harry)

Quarreling with Louis is tiring, so now he's snuggled beside Louis, not really feeling the warmth that he usually does when in this position, on the rug in front of their LCD.

After half an hour or arguing, they've finally decided to watch some reality show on CBS. He glances at Niall, just to check on him and finds him busy on his phone. Typical Niall, he thinks.

He should probably check on Zayn but he knows he must probably still be asleep, it's just 11 in the morning and Zayn never wakes up before 1, anyway. So he snuggles into Louis a bit more, trying not to pay attention to the fact that he can't even feel Louis beside him, and carries on eating his cereal.

It's when Louis is pouring more milk into his bowl despite his protests, _‘you need to eat more hazza’._ , that he hears the unmistakable sound of a door opening. He turns around, Louis and Niall following his lead, and then he is on his feet and leaping towards Zayn. Zayn, who has just pushed open the door of his room and is standing there, with his hair a shabby mess and his eyes still screwed shut.

He reaches Zayn just as Zayn takes a small, hesitant step forward. He has his arms spread out, as he flails them slowly, as if he's checking if someone is in the way.

“Zayn, you could've just called for me,” he tells him, placing his hand on Zayn's shoulder, slightly.

Only that Zayn recoils, brushing his hand off, and saying in a determined tone, “Let me do this myself, Haz.”

He is pulled back by his left wrist then, he turns around and sees that it's Louis gripping it. Louis is biting his lip as he gives him a small nod and says, “Let him.”

“You can do it buddy, just walk straight forward,” Niall speaks from where he is sitting.

Turning back to Zayn, Harry watches him. Watches as Zayn, who has his arms open and hands spread wide, lumbers forward, step by step, slowly and carefully. Finally, he lets out a breath, which he didn't even know he was holding, when Zayn reaches the couch. His knees come in contact with the hard wood first, and he almost topples, preventing a fall by his outspread hands. Then he is gradually leaning down to touch the soft cushions before he turns around and then falls on the couch with an exasperated sigh and the beginning of a content smile on his face.

Niall cheers, ‘You did it buddy!’, jumping beside Zayn and ruffling his hair. Louis lets out a soft breath of _yes!_ beside him. He doesn't realize he is smiling too. After two days of seeing Zayn in such a vulnerable, desolate state, it's nice to see some life in his best mate's face.

—-

(liam)

Since as far as he can remember, he has loved running.

It wasn't just about keeping himself fit, it was about giving himself time; time to think, time for himself, time to give his mind some peace. The wind in his hair and on his face, always so refreshing as he runs and ignores the world around him.

There's always one thought in his mind when he runs, it's Zayn. The one thing that keeps him on his feet when everything is shattering inside him. The only thing that keep him hoping, going, _running_.

He's running towards home now, he has all the secret trails imprinted on his mind. If there's one thing he doesn't like during his running, it's interruption and disturbance. He doesn't want anyone to disrupt his composure or his thoughts. This is _his_ time, and he isn't going to comply on wasting it by giving a fuck about the trivial things around him.

Louis had been so right, so right. Even when a large part of him is missing, and the fact that he might never be able to sing again is still heavy on his mind, this coming out of the house and jogging, like he always does, is exhilarating. He feels light hearted, he feels kind of strong. It's a new feeling, it's a weird one too but he's glad to get out of the pensive reverie he had been in since the last two days.

He needs to gather himself up, he needs to be strong. Because Zayn needs him, and his boys need him. And the constant ringing of Louis’ voice in his head, _‘what's the point of giving up? we're all fucking better than that!’_ isn't going to let him lose hope either.

Reaching his destination, he wipes his forehead, and jogs through the gates, past the security, towards and through the front door. His eyes are met by a sight he wasn't really expecting.

For one, Zayn is awake. Still clad in the baggy sweatshirt he had slept in, his outgrowing hair a glorious mess above his head. Two, he's walking. Liam hasn't seen him walk on his own legs since the last two days and Zayn is walking. It had been him carrying Zayn around because he refused to get out of bed otherwise. And now, the same Zayn is apparently making his way from the kitchen to the couch, while Niall walks behind him (probably there to catch him if he stumbles) and Harry directs him from the couch, ( _yeah keep moving forward, just five more steps to go._ ) with Louis standing a few inches apart, with his hands on his waist, as if keeping a vigilant watch over them.

Once he's taken everything in, he realizes that he himself is grinning, watching Zayn like that; his teeth bothering his bottom lip, eyes still shut as he determinedly takes measured steps towards the sitting area, finally reaching the purple couch and spinning around, falling on the plush cushions with practiced ease, a satisfied smile on his face.

“So that was 13 steps from the kitchen to here, with two turns,” Zayn says.

“Yeah, and now you can easily walk from your room to here, from your room to the kitchen and from the kitchen to here,” it's Louis who says that, ruffling Zayn's hair with pride and adoration, followed by Harry's announcement of, “LADS, LIAM'S BACK!”

Zayn's face breaks into an excited grin at that, and it enthralls him, just a day ago he thought he'd never see Zayn like this. He silently wishes that Zayn would open his eyes and he could see them cloud with the same playful eagerness.

“Wait Li,” Zayn's voice is pulling him out of his thoughts, “You don't come to me, I'll come to you!”

He is at a loss of thoughts, because Zayn is finally _accepting_ what has happened to him, and he just can't thank god enough for this- for not showing him more of a broken, vulnerable Zayn because that is the worst kind. He never wants to witness the disturbing sight of Zayn being a crippled, fragile mess. He had been through that and it had driven needles into his heart, burnt under his eyelids, crept under his skin and fucking killed him inside.

The thought alone brings moisture to his eyes but he keeps it all held back inside as he watches Zayn stand carefully and take a small step forward. Niall is still by his side, alert.

“Say something Li, so I can know where you are,” Zayn tells him and he instinctively opens his mouth because he can't say no to Zayn. But then reality jumps in to ruin everything because he realizes that _say something_ is exactly what he can't do.

Perhaps, Zayn has realized his mistake too because he looks all downcast again with his mouth forming an, “ _Oh._.”

Louis starts to say something, but Zayn doesn't give him a chance.

“Just clap Li, I'll find you,” Zayn states, not letting his previous mistake getting in the way of things.

He nods, even when he knows Zayn can't really see him and he claps.

*clap clap*

Zayn steps forward, crouching a little as he walks, his hands reaching out to feel and touch the obstacles in his way. He maneuvers his way around the coffee table, it looks like he has been practicing, and then Zayn is just six strides away from him. Nothing in the way.

He claps again.

*clap clap*

Zayn grins, moving towards him. And he probably falls a bit more in love with Zayn who has his thick eyelashes spread over the concave spaces above his cheekbones, his steps cautious and gradual.

It's not really his fault if he takes a few steps towards his boyfriend, meeting him in the middle. Zayn startles when he bumps into his broad chest, even letting out a tiny shout, but he has his arms wrapped around his waist and the next thing he knows, his lips are against Zayn's, exactly where they belong. He is sweating and needs a proper shower, but Zayn isn't giving a fuck about that (he never does) as he completely melts into him, wounding his arms around his neck as he kisses back with a frantic fervor which is foreign – and yet so familiar.

“Now that's our Liam and Zayn, in a desperate need to fucking chill with the snogging!” he hears one of the boys say, he can't figure out which; his brain is all _zayn zayn zayn my zayn my baby zayn i am so proud of you zayn my zayn_ and he is too busy to respond anyway.

Faintly, he can feel the debris inside him start to come together and build up. Because with Zayn so close to him, still _his_ , and with Zayn _trying_ to stand up again, he is filled with this unnerving zeal to try even harder. They can make this work, even if hell breaks lose right now, they will somehow still be able to make it through.

—-

(zayn)

He is trying. He is trying his hardest, his best.

But that doesn't mean he's okay. That doesn't mean he doesn't still need Liam. How can he be okay!? When Liam is suffering, when his mates are suffering too? Inside him, everything is in a crumbling disorder. Terrifying thoughts muddle his mind, there is no peace except when he is tangled around Liam.

But he still fights. He has decided to keep fighting until he finds a streak of light in the dark, tormenting tunnel he is stuck in.

He is so proud of himself to have started to walk by himself again, at first he had thought he might never be able to walk around freely without anybody's support. He had done it today, he had made Liam proud and he had shown him that he was going to try with him. That had bolstered his spirits significantly! He had even attempted to walk down the stairs to get to their home studio in the basement, but he had tripped, falling in firm arms, an _‘E N O U G H’_ being traced onto his skin.

Yes, he still can't do a number of things without Liam: picking out what to wear, or figuring out where his soup bowl is, or finding the soap and the shampoo, but he'll get there (in case he stays stuck in the darkness forev- for a long time). Right now, he's content with his progress, and he wants to show Liam how he'll be there for him too, always. How he can support Liam too, he can be (pretend to be) strong for him too. Even when he can't see for shit, even when that thought makes both his gut twist and his heart sink, he has resolved to be strong for Liam (for himself).

He lets his thoughts drift away, the monotonous – yet somewhat soothing – sound of water running in the bathroom, distracting him. After helping him take a bath, tickling him and making him laugh under the water while he washed him up, Liam had tucked him in safely under the covers. Harry was the one who had brought in his tea for him because Liam had excused himself, planting an apologetic kiss on his forehead, to go take a shower himself.

They had been on and about all day; Liam helping him walk all around the house, from the patio to the veranda to the drawing room to the art room to each of the boys’ bedrooms. It had been a hectic day, and Liam had put off taking a shower since he had come back from his morning jog. So it's only appropriate to allow Liam to have sometime for himself, to cool off and to let his worries wash away, even if Zayn wants him beside him right now so so bad, wants to curl up into him and drown in that fresh _Liamish_ scent to never resurface again.

The hardest part of today was calling his mom. And talking to Liam's mom after. Liam had brought it up while he was sitting on the edge of their pool, a cigarette between his teeth, as Liam lighted it. He had been wearing boxer shorts paired with an oversized sweatshirt, the clothing he had slept in and hadn't (couldn't) bother to change. He doesn't know what Liam had been wearing, but whatever it was it felt wooly and soft under his touch. When Liam's fingers touched his thigh, he knew what was coming, so he paid full attention and focused on the traces the fingertips were leaving behind. He was used to this by now, Liam sketching alphabets on his skin.

_‘C A L L U R M U M’_

‘No, Liam.’

_‘S H E W I L W O R R Y’_

He knew Liam was right, his mom would worry. He hadn't called her after their last show. And he hadn't gone out after that. So he had obliged, taking the phone from Liam when he had placed it into his hands.

Blatantly lying on the phone to his mum wasn't easy, but he managed. Told her he was okay, and just sleeping in. She asked about Liam, he told her he was fine as well. Was taking good care of him like always (the meaning of that sentence so real). She had wished him good luck, told him she missed him, hoped to see him soon. He couldn't get more than a ‘yeah’, ‘okay’ and ‘love you mum’ out of his mouth.

After than Liam had dialed his own mother, and again handed Zayn the phone whilst writing a ‘M Y M U M’ was on his thigh. He didn't know what to say to Karen when she asked where Liam was, so he just said he had had a bad throat and was now on vocal rest – not allowed to speak. She had bought it, surprisingly and asked for Liam to call her when he's feeling better. Requesting Zayn to take care of his son, with a ‘I miss you all’, she had ended the call and he had let out a huge sigh of relief.

So yeah, he hates Liam very much for making him go through that. And he's still thinking about (regretting) lying to his mum when he feels Liam's side of their bed dip.

“Li?” he asks, his hand already reaching for the person he can't see.

A tongue licks his left ear instead, and it tickles so he giggles, leaning back into the arm that goes around him. He turns his head, his lips coming in contact with the bare shoulder and he drops a kiss there.

It's Liam. Smelling of fresh patchouli, with a hint of musk. The refreshing scents, that always cling to Liam's body like they were made for him.

“Li,” he states, answering his own question.

He hears Liam switch off the lamplight, probably, before he is covering them both with a duvet.

“Harry made me tea,” he murmurs, his mouth still close to Liam's ear, Liam's wet short hair tickling his nose, “It wasn't like how I like it, I hated it. Only you know how I like it.”

He feels Liam's hand go under the duvet, and find his abdomen where a _‘S O R R Y’_ is formed by his fingers.

“Nah, it's okay,” he grins into Liam's neck, inhaling deeply because he can never get enough. “Thank you for everything, Liam. I can never thank you enough.”

He waits attentively, while Liam's fingers trace something onto his skin again, _‘L O L.’_

“Liam Payne, I am very serious here and you are making fun of me?” he asks, feigning hurt.

Liam's lips are on his left cheek now, spread into a smile. He is craving for the sound of Liam's laugh, a giggle would suffice even, but his wishes all remain unfulfilled. He jumps a little when Liam bites into his cheekbone, smiling against his skin again.

“You're in a feisty mood, what's up babe?” he asks, shifting a little, his nose bumping into some part of Liam.

Liam's arms go around him, tickling his sides and he giggles because it just feels so good.

 _‘I W A N T U’_ is traced every so gently onto his back, Liam's fingertips touching him but just not enough. It's so unexpected, and so blunt and yet it makes his head all fuzzy and he realizes that yes, **_fuck yes_** , he wants Liam just as bad. So he nips lightly at Liam's shoulder as he responds, “Then what're you waiting for?”

He hears it clearly when Liam lets out a sharp breath right above his ear.

“Have me, Li. I am always all yours,” he licks Liam's skin, inhaling heavily, “I miss the feeling of you being inside me.”

A rush of cold air washes over him as the duvet over him is pulled away. He feels Liam shift, two strong hands on either side of his waist, as he is made to lie down. Liam hovers above him, spreading him out above the soft bed sheets. Calloused fingers rub circles in the hollow of his neck, traveling down to roam over his chest, down to his belly button, down _down_ fondling through his happy trail until they're hooking around the elastic band of his trousers. One of Liam's arm snakes around him, lifting him slightly of the bed so that he can pull his trousers down. Air hits his dick, and he takes a sharp intake of breath.

Which was a good decision because the next second, all his muscles are tightening in enthrallment and all breath is shaken out of him when a soft kiss is placed right on top of his dick. Liam's lips coming in contact with the shaft, soft like feathers, just for a second as a kiss is placed there too.

“Oh- god- Liam,” he manages to get out of his mouth, as he reaches out for him, his fingers beckoning for Liam frantically.

The moment Liam's cheek comes in contact with his palm, and he knows where Liam's face is, he is grabbing it with both hands and pulling Liam up. Their lips crash like they always do in breathtaking moments like these; his parched ones melting effortlessly into the delicate, plush ones.

Liam licks into his mouth, replacing the remaining taste of tea with that of his menthol toothpaste. His mind is clouded with Liam's erratic breathing as Liam leaves his mouth to lick at his Adam's apple instead. He doesn't know when Liam had discarded his pants (or maybe he never had any on in the first place– fuck) because he can feel Liam hard and naked against himself, and it's not really helping.

The constant nipping at the bottom of his neck elicit moans out of him, as he tries to hold them in but he knows very well he's going to fail. They're all for Liam anyway, because of Liam, always (only) because of Liam. His first moan causes Liam to fall flat on him, his weight a sacred kind of comfort that Zayn secretly relishes in. It's a form of sweet torture too, since now his dick is in full contact with Liam's, who is purposely rotating his hips above him, causing a chain of ‘liam liam liam’ to flow out his mouth.

Focusing on Liam's breathing, he moves his hand up into Liam's short hair; pulling and tugging lightly.

“Do something Li, touch me, do something,” he pleads in a voice so hoarse, he has trouble believing it's his own. He hates (loves) (can't really believe) how Liam does this to him; turns him from a completely sane and collected individual to a vulnerable, moaning muddle in a matter of seconds.

“Liam fuck, please,” he begs again, because Liam's dick is still sliding next to his and- fuck, okay fuck. Because Liam is sucking on his right nipple, biting it softly and then gently caressing the consequential hard bud with his tongue, drawing another loud moan from him.

“Liiaaam,” he groans, his entire being buzzing with anticipation of where Liam might touch him next.

Liam always makes him beg like this; makes him collect all the control he has over himself and hand it over to him. The fact that Liam is still capable of doing this to him without uttering a single word is beyond his intuition.

Large, eager hands are now traveling across his neck until they reach his lips which feel so sensitive all of a sudden under Liam's fingertips. The fingers pry his mouth open, and he gets the gist of what Liam is trying to do. Opening his mouth obediently, he lets Liam slide his fingers into it, one by one. He sucks onto every digit, his tongue rolling around them, covering them completely with saliva. Liam's other hand is brushing his hair away from over his closed eyes, and he can almost _feel_ Liam's eyes on him (imagines how they'd be looking right now; dark and hungry for him), while he sucks obscenely on Liam's thumb.

Without any indication, Liam is pulling his thumb out of his mouth, and then Liam shifts a little, just a little. The expanse of Liam's chest is still pressed against his smaller frame, he feels a hot, heavy breath land on his shoulder. And then, he is aflame; the moment Liam's hand curls around his length, he swears he feels like he has been lit on fire. Every cell in his body is so _alive_ and so sensitive to the lightest of Liam's touches.

Liam runs his fingers down his shaft, and then up again. And he's touching Zayn, but it's not enough. He feels the pad of Liam's thumb circle over his corona and he bites his bottom lip because– fuck. Sparks are shooting up his body, reaching his toes and his fingertips and then Liam is rubbing over the head, spreading around his wetness and he can literally feel the tip of Liam's warm dick, digging into one of his thighs and he doesn't know what to do except clutch at Liam's hair, find his ear with his mouth and whisper aggressively, “Bloody hell Liam, just fuck me already, please no more teasing!”

He knows Liam won't deny him anymore, he can hear him panting, he can imagine his disheveled, unsteady state. He has seen it so many times, fucking loves how Liam gets so disoriented and frustrated when he just wants to be inside him. He feels Liam kiss the tip of his nose, and the next moment all the Liam over him vanishes. Warmth is replaced by a coolness that he hates.

“Liam, where are you?” he says, his hands fist into the bed sheets, he is too horny and too angry. He doesn't even know.

He hears a drawer slide open and _obviously_ ; Liam is just fetching the lube. The next moment, Liam is spreading his legs apart and he has no objections to offer. He bites his bottom lip harshly, when a cold lubed finger slides down from his balls to his hole. Then Liam is pressing against it, rubbing and rubbing, until the thick digit finally enters Zayn. He lets out an instant moan that he had been holding back for so long. Just a few moments after another digit is added, as Liam scissors him open, stretching him far and wide, not that he thinks he needs it, he just needs to feel Liam inside him already. A third finger joins the other two, and he arches his back because Liam makes a beeline for that that spot inside him, like he's learnt exactly where it is, and he is rubbing his prostate, applying force on it and-

“Liam, _Liam_ , fuck just fuck me- I fucking swear-”

He is cut short because Liam is all over him again, kissing him rigorously. Liam bites into his bottom lip harshly, before Liam is gone again.

Befuddled, he waits impatiently, his brain very close to short circuiting, his sense of hearing alert as he tries to make out what Liam is doing. He clearly hears the slippery sounds of Liam probably (definitely) lubing himself. Suddenly, his mind is fraught with vivid images of Liam slicking himself up, its so clear and so real and resembles every single time that he's seen Liam prepare himself – slather his dick with all that cold lube, readying himself to enter him. His own neglected member throbs for attention at the imagery.

But when he reaches for his dick with his own hand, just to apply some sort of pressure that it's been begging for, his hand is slapped away roughly, causing him to groan in protest. He fists his hand back into the bed sheet because Liam's taking too long and he doesn't know what else to do.

”Liam, if you aren't here in the next five seconds, I swear to god I am...,” he doesn't know, he knows nothing except that he will start crying now if Liam isn't inside him this minute. It's so annoying; the fact that he can't see what Liam is doing combined with the fact that he isn't _touching_ him!

The sigh of relief he lets out when he feels those large familiar hands on his thighs is almost alleviating. Under those hands, he lies there pliant – yet ready to explode any second – while Liam maneuvers his legs so that they're spread and lifted in the air, the back of his shins resting against the insides of Liam’s arms.

He clutches the bed sheets tightly, the moment he feels the head of Liam's dick touch his sensitive ring of muscle and he waits for it, his breath halting for a moment. The next moan he lets out is of pure pleasure that comes crashing down on him when Liam finally pushes in, easing into him inch by inch until he can feel his arse pressed flush against Liam's thighs. Then Liam is slowly moving his dick out, and he curses because _no no liam, i need it_. Reading his face probably, Liam thrusts back in and he's rough this time, causing him to throw his head back and let out a soft scream of gratification.

After a few more thrusts that push him to the very edge and then pull him back, Liam reaches a steady pace, pushing all the way into him but never pulling all the way out, over and over and over. He has his eyes screwed shut, as he lets out every filthy sound he is capable of producing because like always, the pleasure is such and Liam doesn't like when he holds back. His mind is in a haphazard overdrive, thinking about all the little (dirty) things Liam usually says to him while taking him like this; _you're so beautiful babe,_ and _you should always look like this,_ and _i love how you say my name like that_ , and _i will cum so deep inside you, and you'll tell me how it feels, yeah?_ and he wants to hear all that again, he'd give anything up to hear all that again. _Anything._

“Liam, Liam, give me your hand,” he says in between heavy breaths, as he reaches out. Liam pauses thrusting into him just for a moment, before his right hand is curling around Zayn's left one. Zayn brings it to his eyes, and requests in a whimper, “Cover my eyes, Li. Please.”

He can feel the waves of hesitancy and confusion that Liam is emitting but he still covers Zayn's eyes with his hand anyway, while maintaining the steady rhythm of his thrusts.

“I want to feel like everything’s normal and I can't see anything because you are covering my eyes,” he explains through his panting.

There is an abrupt pause in Liam's movements again, causing him to opens his mouth to call Liam but before he can make a sound, Liam's mouth is covering his and stealing every last syllable in one long breath. Liam kisses him thoroughly, licking into every corner of his mouth, sucking all his breath out of him while pushing in deep against his prostrate. The moan he lets out then would have been absolutely filthy, but Liam drinks it down greedily because it's just for him. His toes are curling, as he tries to wrap his legs around Liam, trying to get into a more comfortable position only that he doesn't really care. Liam thrusts into him, harder this time, a very strong hand gripping his waist to keep him from moving but in vain. His entire body is bucking against the sheets since Liam is ramming into him, gnawing at his bottom lip. A string of inaudible curses is flowing out his mouth, dissolving somewhere into Liam's loud breaths. And then Liam pushes in so hard, hitting the over sensitive spot without any indication, that the darkness Zayn is in fades into a bright white light that is blinding and pleasing. It's electric when he is pushed over the edge, every speck of his being exploding with ecstasy and desire as he comes before Liam.

Liam's sweaty hand presses hard against his eyelids, as he tightens around Liam who is still pounding info him, not pausing.

“Yes Li- yeah,” he says, body tingling, on fire, words torn, “Fill me up- baby- yeah- I love- love you- so much.”

Then Liam's teeth dig deep into his lip, as he goes stiff above him. He feels the unmistakable wetness filling him up, and he moans into Liam's heavy breaths. He lets his leg fall on the bed from around Liam's waist, just as Liam pulls out. He feels when Liam's fingers travel all the way down again, reaching his hole which he can feel dripping with Liam's cum. He takes sharp breaths every time he feels Liam's finger pushing back the sticky fluid back inside him. Soon, Liam lifts himself off him, pulls away his hands over his eyes. It makes no difference, it is still as dark. Feather light kisses are placed on both his eyelids and he smiles in spite of himself. He can still feel Liam's presence above him, feels when Liam reaches over him, wiping the mess off his abdomen with a soft cloth a moment after. Liam does not proceed to clean the cum dripping out of him, making a mess on the bed and on his ass cheeks. Being in no position (or need) to complain, he just snuggles into Liam's side when he feels Liam lie beside him and pull the duvet over them again.

“My baby,” he whispers into Liam's firm shoulder, sliding his arm over Liam's stomach when Liam puts an arm around his waist to pull him closer; all to himself.

Liam kisses his forehead in response, before tickling him under the armpit. Giggles erupt from his mouth and he tries to hide them in Liam's neck.

It's funny how there's darkness all around him, trying his best to swallow him whole and yet he's lying here in his haven, giggling like a stupid child and so _so_ in love.

He's on the verge of falling asleep when he feels four letters being scratched onto his skin, right above his heart by a blunt fingernail. Those four letters and the wetness between his ass cheeks are the last things on his mind, before slumber embraces him completely.

**_‘M I N E’_ **

—-

(louis)

“...and as for the tour, that'll be decided on Monday. If you guys are all well by then, hopefully, the tour will continue. If not... Then it will have to be cancelled, and they’ll see what can be done,” Paul finishes.

“You mean that if we remain like this, god forbid, our careers are over?” he asks, his stomach twisting into a knot because they have worked so hard for everything and losing it all all of a sudden, he can't even think about it.

Paul shrugs, handing Niall his empty tea cup, “I am just telling you what the management has asked me to convey. That's all they've said. I wouldn't want you to jump to conclusions Louis.”

“But they're canceling the tour, they are refusing to hold a meeting with us, what else does this mean?” he pushes, glancing at Liam who has his bottom lip between his teeth and his arm around Zayn.

“I can't say anything about that, but all I can tell you is not to think about this too much. You're just going to jump onto the worst possibilities and make this hard on all of you,” Paul tries again, “Personally, I don't think your careers are over boys. You have a strong fandom, who won't leave you in a situation like this and who wouldn't want the end of this band either. And you can still sing, sell out albums. You're all still capable of doing that.”

“Liam can't really sing Paul,” comes a stony reply from Zayn before he can even open his mouth. The boy's eyes are shut tightly, his forehead painted with furious lines as he continues, “And I don't know about anybody else, but I'm not doing this without Liam.”

“None of us are doing this without Liam,” Harry says from behind him too, Niall nodding in affirmation.

“I know you won't,” Paul says, throwing a sympathetic smile towards Liam who is staring at the floor, a pained look on his face, “That is what's best about you five. You won't give up, you won't leave any of your mates behind. You'll see boys, this won't change anything. You'll all be okay soon.”

“I bloody well hope so,” Zayn grunts, leaning back into Liam, still angry at Paul.

“We'll be fine,” he says, more to Zayn than anybody else, “Thank you Paul, for coming in and letting us know.”

“Always Louis,” Paul says, as he gets up to depart, “Take care of each other, and don't worry too much. What's going to happen, is going to happen. You want it or not. Just keep yourselves strong enough to be able to deal with it.”

He watches solemnly as Paul leaves and as Niall shuts the front door behind him. Then,

“Bloody hell,” Zayn snarls, and he punches the cushion lying next to him. Liam grabs his wrist and pulls him to himself, with his arms going firmly around him.

“Zee, calm down,” he tries to soothe his best friend, “It just slipped out of his mouth, okay? You made that mistake too, remember?”

“He shouldn't have said it,” Zayn breathes loudly into Liam's neck, “It- it just hurts.”

Liam's hand is in his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly. The expression on Liam's face – a blanket of misery is shrouded over his features, as he continues to calm Zayn down.

“Liam will be okay Zayn,” he tries to console the boy, “We all will be.”

“When?” Zayn snorts into Liam's neck, silencing him for a minute.

“I don't know Zayn, nobody knows,” he gently tells the curled up bundle in Liam's arms, “But there's a reason behind all this, there's got to be! And we'll find it, and we'll make us all right okay? You'll be able to see, and Liam will be able to sing. We all will be normal again, you're listening yeah?”

Liam is looking at him with empty eyes now, blinking away his tears, nodding slightly, signaling him to go on; to keep whispering those positive things to Zayn. So he does.

“What haven't we gone through? Remember that video of us smoking that went viral, we even survived that! And that recording of you inviting girls to your hotel room, people calling you a man whore when actually it was just us pulling a prank on some fans? God, we even survived through the consequences of that one!”

He knows he's just blurting out random bullshit right now, comparing little incidents to the huge calamity that has struck upon them, but then Zayn is muttering, “They leaked the recording because they were so angry at us for pranking them like that!” with a small smile on his face, and yeah, it's working.

“It's hurts all of us Zed,” Harry is running his hand up and down Zayn's back, consoling him further, “But look, now you can even walk without any support! That's progress right, that's hope right there. We can try to be normal and not lose everything, or we can completely give up and lose against this stupid thing God has suddenly decided to curse us with.”

“We're going to fight okay? Not giving up, Zee, you have to hold onto us. To Liam,” he adds to Harry's little speech, pride in his heart to have such a soft spoken, philosophical angel all for himself.

A loud bang of a door slamming shut startles them all. Harry has horror on his face as he jerks around, the sudden noise seems to have shaken him a bit.

“Where’s Niall?” Harry speaks, and he realizes that Niall is missing from the spot he had been standing on a few seconds ago.

“What just happened?” Zayn asks from behind, his voice still small but laced with concern.

“I guess that was Niall,” he tells Zayn, jumping up to his feet and striding towards Niall's room.

As expected, he finds the door closed. He bangs on the solid wood with a fist. Anxiety is spreading all over his body – what had gone wrong now, had something else happened to Niall?

—-

(niall)

Sweat is dripping from his forehead and he keeps wiping it away with the back of his hand. Louis is pounding on the door which shakes under the force. He is pacing around his room, unable to think about anything except the striking image in his head.

He now knows why that old woman with the crooked teeth had stained his memory that day; the day when everything around him had crashed. He knows who she is, he knows why he had been dreaming about her and now he knows why his friends are suffering. It's because of him; his stupidity. How could he be so dumb?

When Harry had said the word ‘curse’, it had triggered something inside him. The loud, clear voice of that woman had boomed in his ears whilst everything from that night had flash-backed in front of his eyes. His toes had all gone numb, trepidation spreading over him and now he's here, hiding behind a door from the friends he had brought hell upon.

To be honest though, a little part of him is thinking; it's not really his fault. He had been drunk as fuck, he didn't know what he had been doing or saying. It was all just a joke, he had ran into that carnival as a joke, had entered the fortuneteller’s tent because one of his friend's had pushed him inside! He had wanted to storm right out just at the sight of the wrinkled, old woman. Had even snorted right at the her face when he had seen the display of tarot cards, crystal balls and tea cups all around him. He vaguely remembers her raising her greying eyebrows at him, her round observant eyes scanning him from head to toe. He doesn't think he can ever forget the number of beads around her neck, or the vibrant scarf tied around her head – the color of which had made him nauseous.

Probably, telling her that he didn't believe in 'stupid shit' like that the moment he took a seat in front of her wasn't the best approach. Exclaiming 'what a bull load of crap!' when she gazed attentively at a crystal ball and said something about his stars being all aligned wasn't a good idea either. Telling her to ‘fuck off, what d’you even know about me? you stupid hag!’ when she told him he took a lot of things in life for granted and that could result in heavy losses so he should cherish what he had, was a bit too far.

She probably knew he was drunk as fuck, thus didn't take him seriously. She continued though, telling him he’d suffer if he didn't listen to her, but her voice had turned edgy and annoyed by then, ‘You need to start cherishing the little things in life before they're taken away from you. I'm only saying this for your benefit, take my advice or leave it. Your own choice, there is no need to get your panties in a twist over this!’

And, _how dare she?_ is all his drunk ego had said to him, his leg jerking out to kick at her round table, causing the crystal ball to roll off and crash to the ground. He remembers how it had exploded into a myriad of tiny, glistening crystals that scattered on the floor. But he also remembers not giving a single fuck, because alcohol had muddled his senses and the fury he felt was real – who the fuck did she think she was giving him life advice when she don't even know him!

He didn't get time to voice that out loud though, because she had let out a giant shriek. The look on her face; horrified, incandescent. And then she was turning on him, her voice full of mirth, “You'll suffer. I curse you! You will see the people closest to you go through immense hardship, they'll lose something essential too, along with you and you'll be the cause of that. You'll watch them giving up and losing hope, everything you have will be put at risk, you'll know it's your fault and you'll suffer.”

He remembers rolling his eyes at her and giving her the middle finger as he stormed out. Putting a "curse" on him? Yeah, right. Curse, his ass!

Now he fucking hates himself, because there can be no other reason as to why all this is happening. It's just can't be a coincidence; one day a creepy old woman is saying such stuff to him and the next day he's watching as his friends lose one of their senses – something essential.

Ugh, fuckfuckfuckfuck. Zayn had been at the point of breaking, because of him. Liam has to live with the scary thought of not ever being able to sing; because of him. Harry can't feel, fuck, Harry doesn't complain but he literally feels nothing but numbness and it's his fault. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Should he tell the boys?

_Fuck, no. Are you fucking insane?_

He needs to check if the carnival is still on, his driver would be well aware of the exact location. He needs to go there to the woman and apologize, maybe buy her a new crystal ball or something. He needs to make this right, and he knows he'll have to do this all by himself. He doesn't ever have to tell anybody what he had done, doesn't have to face the boys after a confession. He can go, he can pay her, she knew he was drunk off his ass. She has to remove the curse! What the hell– he really never believed in such things and now he's cursed. It's surreal, and it's horrifying.

He glances at the time, it's six in the evening. He'll probably wait for his friends to sleep, then he'll leave for the carnival (which he hopes is still there– it's his only hope). The boys all retreat back into their rooms after 11 these days, so that would work in his favor.

Speaking of the boys, he can hear Harry and Louis conversing outside his room door. The pounding had stopped a few minutes ago, being replaced by Harry's occasional but loud knocks and calls, ‘Niall, please say something!’ and ‘Niall, you okay in there?’

He shakes his head, coming back into the tranquil composure he had been faking since the last few days. And then looks in the mirror just to make sure he doesn't look shaken and suspicious – the reflection in the mirror is of someone who has just had an encounter with a ghost.

Unable to do anything about how upset he looks, he trots over to the door and finally throws it open. Like expected, Harry and Louis are right in front of his door. Liam standing not far behind. They all look at him with anxious and curious looks; guilt slams his heart like a fucking avalanche.

“You okay?” Harry asks, and he walks over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glances at Harry's hand, the thought of Harry feeling nothing beneath it twists something in his stomach.

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes search for Zayn as he adds,“I just couldn't see Zayn like that.“

The lie slips off his tongue easily, and it's a perfect one too. They know how he considers Zayn his older brother, they are sure to buy this.

Louis nods at him, “Neither of us can mate, but you need to warn us before pulling a stunt like that again, yeah?”

“You got us so worried,” Harry adds and Liam nods his head, affirming.

“I'm sorry,” he shrugs. Then takes a shot at lightening the mood by giving Louis a soft smile and saying, “And I'm also very hungry by the way.”

He isn't. He is barely hungry these days. He hates food because it all tastes the same – like water. Like nothing. It works because Louis grins at him, and is already on his way towards the kitchen, “Today's dinner will be served at eight sharp, and it's on me.”

Harry follows him, not before saying, “He'll probably burn the entire kitchen down today, so I'll just keep an eye on him.”

Once Harry and Louis have disappeared into the general direction of the kitchen, Niall looks back at Liam.

“Where's Zayn?” he asks.

Liam points to his and Zayn's room and then holds up two fingers in front of his mouth and mimes smoking.

“Oh,” he says, before adding, “And Liam, I'm very sorry.”

Liam looks at him inquisitively, then shakes his head and opens his arms. His fingers beckon him, and he just walks into Liam's open invitation.

He presses his face into Liam's neck, as Liam rubs his back soothingly. And before he knows what's happening, he's crying into Liam's shoulder. The tears are flowing and he doesn't care because fuck- what has he done!?

He doesn't know for how long he just stands there in the solace of his best mate's arms. But he's glad nobody interrupts them as he lets his guilt and his fears out. If he faintly hears Liam sniff, he doesn't pay attention to it.

He has barely ever seen Liam cry after the X-factor. Just the thought of a strong individual like Liam crying kills him, he doesn't even know what the sight of Liam crying would do to him.

So he doesn't dare to look up and completely soils Liam's shirt with his tears. The images of Zayn and Harry and Louis and Liam in his head.

—-

(harry)

He is half-lying, half-sitting on the counter top, with his phone in his hand. Louis is busy in front of the stove; stirring a wooden ladle in the pan he had just put some pasta in a few minutes ago. Fairly speaking, he is a far better cook than Louis is, and normally he would be playfully snatching the wooden spoon away from Louis and cooking dinner himself. But nothing is normal anymore, and it’s better to not do stuff and be hit with the realization that he can’t feel like he’s holding anything, can’t feel the sweat dripping down his forehead because of the warm environment of the kitchen anymore.

Also, Louis wouldn’t let him anyway. He had tried before a few times, but Louis had just shaken his head in denial. To this day he can’t fathom how Louis understands him so well, he doesn’t even need to speak to convey what he’s thinking or what he wants – a look in the eye is enough. Other than that, he knows how Louis likes to keep himself busy when dealing with a crisis. Just being involved in something else keeps his mind off the wretchedness. So its better to just leave him be.

But then he just doesn’t work that way. He kind of needs Louis within at least a kilometer radius of himself in order to breathe evenly. Otherwise, his mind becomes a constant mess of _‘louis where louis why louis how louis what louis where’_ and it’s aggravating. So he’s here, just minding his own business (staying near Louis).

“Haz, c’mere,” Louis calls him.

He jumps off the counter, pocketing his phone, and trots over to Louis.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me how this smells?” Louis asks, pointing at the delicious looking, colorful pasta in the pan.

The kitchen is already filled with the aroma, but just to pretend to Louis, he sniffs into the pan and smiles his widest smile.

“Amazing Lou,” he says honestly.

Then he begins to put a finger into the pan to taste and Louis smacks his hand with the spoon, “No, Harold.”

“My name isn’t Harold and you are a meanie,” he pouts, and licks his hand which had caught some of the taste off the spoon.

“I only did it because I don’t want you burning yourself, love,” Louis scolds him, “In case you didn’t notice, it’s still over fire.”

“Yeah, but even if I did burn myself, I’m not really going to feel any pain, so I might as well just-”

“Shut up,” and Louis is furious all of a sudden, “Don’t say that! You’ll still damage your skin Haz, just because you won’t feel it doesn’t mean I’d like to look at you getting hurt!”

“Hey hey, I am sorry,” and he is stopping Louis from turning away from him by sliding an arm around his waist, using his empty hand to place a lid on the pan and turn the stove off. “I was just trying to be funny, now I realize it was a bad joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke at all Haz,” Louis corrects him, placing the spoon on the nearest top and laying his hands on his chest, “And nothing is funny.”

 

“I don’t like such stuff coming out of your mouth,” he says lightly, “C’mon, give me smile Lou.”

Louis cracks a half smile, it’s artificial.

“You tell all of us it’ll be fine, and how we shouldn’t worry too much or give up so quickly,” he continues, “And then you worry so much yourself Lou, you’re always worrying and I don’t like this one bit.”

Louis is staring at his chest, not saying a word, his lips pursed, so he keeps going.

“I don’t really care anymore, of what’s happening around me, or what’s wrong or just anything! I just want my Louis back, the one who doesn’t look like he hasn’t had a good sleep in days,” he rubs the dark circles under Louis’ eyes.

“I don’t want to fail, Harry.” Louis confesses, in a whisper.

“Fail what?” he asks, confused.

“Fail you guys,” Louis admits, “I feel responsible for you all, I love you all. And I promised myself, right at the very beginning, how I’d take care of you lads, forever. And yeah, I know I have done stupid reckless stuff myself, but I don’t think I have done anything to deserve this.”

“Baby, it’s not your fault,” he holds Louis’ face in his hands, his heart hammering in his chest because why does Louis have to take all these burdens on his shoulders, why _why_!?

“But I can’t make something right for the first time, I can’t make Zayn laugh, can’t make Liam smile, I can’t kiss you with the knowledge of you not being able to feel it and if I do, I just feel selfish I don’t know!” Louis clutches the front of his sweatshirt in fists, as he lets his frustration out for the first time in days.

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” he whispers, and he hugs Louis to himself. Recalls all the previous moments he had done exactly this to imagine how it must be feel like. Louis’ smaller, tense frame enveloped in his arms, “Don’t feel this way, please? Look at me.”

He sandwiches Louis’ face between his hands.

“You’ll always be our Superman okay? You don’t have to try and make things right when they’re not in your hands, and you don’t have to take all the worry.”

“But-”

“No Lou, no buts. You have to promise me, no more worrying! Cheer us up, make us laugh and be you! We can’t do this without you, and it hurts to see you worry so much all the time,” he kisses Louis’ forehead.

“Promise me Lou, you’ll only chill now, and we’ll see what happens and we can do about this thing, _together_. Okay?”

Louis stares right into his eyes before nodding in his hands, “Yeah, fine.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Good, now dance with me,” he says, smiling at the benign face and grabbing Louis’ hands to place them around his neck.

“What?” Louis asks him, shocked for a minute.

“Yeah, if we’re gonna chill you down, we might as well start right now,” he keeps his toothy grin on.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Louis says, but doesn’t withdraw his hands from his neck.

“Who cares?”

“There is no music.”

“Oh, but there is.”

He reaches for his phone, keeping one arm securely around Louis’ waist and plays the first track his eyes fall on. Placing the phone just beside the wooden spoon, he holds Louis’ close to him with both hands now.

They sway rhythmically pressed to one another to the gentle melody, slowly moving from the stove to the middle of the kitchen. Louis’ eyes throw smiles his way, and he is so glad because Louis looks somewhat relaxed.

Louis places his head on his shoulder, and he can’t feel it. Nor can he feel the hands around his neck, or the feel of weight pressing against him. So he shuts his eyes, and buries his face into Louis’ hair, inhales the familiar scent of peaches and coconuts. As he floats with Louis, on thin air, to the distinct sound of, _we’re so much alike, it ain’t a good thing, too dumb to give up…_

—-

 

 

(liam + zayn)

It’s after dinner, when he’s helped Niall do the dishes, that he makes his way back into their room. He doesn’t expect to see Zayn walking around, barefoot, in their room when he enters. He had left him sitting on the bed but now Zayn is pacing back and forth from the left wall to the left side of the bed. He is also blinking his eyes rapidly as his arms swing by his sides as he continues the pacing.

Zayn stops in his steps though, when he hears the door click shut.

“Liam?” Zayn inquires, his blinking stops as his eyes fall shut again.

Slowly, Liam walks over to him and takes his hand. A bright smile spreads on Zayn’s face the moment skin touches skin.

“I want to do something, Liam. I am so bored, you don’t even know!” Zayn tells him. And yeah, Liam had been expecting this.

Even though Zayn likes the peace and quiet of their room, and even though he’d prefer staying in watching _Game of Thrones_ with him under a blanket rather than going out and partying, sometimes Zayn just _needs_ to do something wild (and not with anyone else but Liam) and this looks like one of those times.

Usually, when they aren’t allowed to go out, they dance. All around the room, all screwed up steps, while upbeat Kanye West and Usher tracks blast from the speakers. He can’t see that happening since he doesn’t really want Zayn to trip or fall and hurt himself. Sometimes, they sneak out and are back after a wild run before anyone can even notice their absence. At other times, he drags Zayn to the swimming pool and after a thousand pleas (and promises of a blowjob occasionally) manages to get him to swim (zayn doesn’t even make an effort, just clings to him like a koala while he does all the work).

Right now, nothing comes to his mind so he just threads his fingers into Zayn’s and brings his hand to his lips to kiss its dorsum.

“I’m all for sex Li,” Zayn grins, “But right now, I just- you know I just want to _do_ something! Like you know, like paint or draw or spray paint the wall or- yeah? But I can’t do that, so- I just don’t know!”

He is blabbering now, and Liam is smiling against his hand because he loves this hyperactive Zayn. So full of infantilism and spirit, even when he’s probably dying inside because he can’t do the one thing he loves; spray paint the wall.

An idea hits Liam and suddenly, he knows what they’re going to do.

He turns Zayn’s hand over and writes with his index finger on his palm: _C O M E_.

“Where?” Zayn asks, with furrowed eyebrows.

In answer to that, Liam just intertwines their fingers again and pulls Zayn with him as he starts towards the door again. He leads them out, Zayn following swiftly behind him. He can hear Zayn counting under his breath; he knows what he’s doing so he doesn’t ask. They keep walking until they’re standing in front of the art room.

Zayn has an art studio in every house that they’ve brought. He’s got one in his own, one in the huge apartment Liam has, one in this house that they share with the boys and then there’s one even in Harry’s house because that is what Harry had given Zayn for his birthday. And nobody had questioned why, because (1) Zayn had been so happy and (2) nobody can ever understand why Harry does what Harry does.

“You’ve brought me to the art room,” Zayn states causing him to nod, even when he knows that Zayn can’t see, “I counted the steps.”

He pulls out his feet from his Birkenstocks and leaves them outside the door, escorting Zayn inside. Zayn hears a door shut and the smell of chemicals that he associates with the spray paints fill his nostrils. This room always smells of them and suddenly Zayn feels like a kid who is in a room full of candy and just can’t reach out to get one. Zayn trusts Liam’s judgment though, so he doesn’t question as to why Liam would bring him here, just waits for whatever is in Liam’s mind.

“Liam, where are you?” he asks, when he realizes that his hand is hanging empty beside him and there is no Liam holding it.

He hears the _clink-clank_ of spray cans in the proximity so he knows Liam is probably searching for something.

“What you dooooiingg, Li?” he asks impatiently, curiosity is strangling him.

Straining to hear what Liam’s up to, he starts to tap his foot restlessly against the soft sheets of thin paper he's standing on. Then he hears light footsteps coming towards him and he sighs.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks him, when Liam’s hand goes around his and a spray can is pushed into his other. He is pulled a few steps forward. He feels Liam go behind him, so that his back is pressed against Liam’s chest.

Liam slides one of his hands around Zayn’s waist, resting it over his stomach and slides the other hand down Zayn’s right arm until he reaches his hand. He encompasses Zayn’s hand (the one clutching the spray paint) in his own, and guides Zayn’s finger to the top of the nozzle with his own. By now, Zayn has grasped what Liam is trying to do and there are sensations all over his body that he just can’t explain.

He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to fall any more in love with Liam, but as Liam’s finger applies pressure on his nail causing him to press the nozzle, and Liam helps him move his arm, making him spray paint on the wall which must be in front of him, he realizes that yeah, now he is far past the _falling_ phase, now he is just plummeting in love.

Minutes tick by, while Zayn giggles in his arms and he holds his hand, painting absolute shit on the wall. They move from colour to colour; red, blue, green – colours that Zayn can’t see but Liam keeps etching the respective names onto his skin with his fingertips – and try to paint monsters and superheroes on the wall. And Liam realizes he really is shit at art because the red glob in the corner was actually supposed to be Mario, instead it looks more like a rotten strawberry on a blue platter.

But it doesn’t really matter, because Zayn has dropped the spray can now and is clinging to his white T-shirt, giggling into his chest like a child.

“I so fucking love you, you asshole,” Zayn says.

Liam tugs his hair, which have overgrown a bit and make him look more like a kid than they ever have. And Liam is _so_ not letting anybody cut Zayn’s hair this time, not until they grow as long as Liam wants them to, anyway.

Zayn nips at his neck at that and he starts tickling him. The sound of his giggles is music to his ears, as he tries to slap his hands away and fails. Liam is there to catch him when he stumbles, falling backwards. Saving him from what could have been a hard fall, he lays him gently down on the floor that is covered with large white sheets. Zayn is breathing heavily, the smile still plastered on his face as he lies down beside him and bolsters himself up on his elbow to look at him.

“What did we draw?” he asks Liam, his chest rising and falling with his breaths.

Liam reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up little, revealing his stomach. He writes, _‘A M E S S.’_

Zayn chuckles, “I knew it. You’re shit at art.”

‘R U D E.’

“But you’re kind of perfect at everything else.”

Liam feels his cheeks heat up, as he keeps drawing mindless patterns over the beginnings of his V-line.

“At being a boyfriend, at being a friend, at being everything.”

Liam is shaking his head, raking his eyes over the ethereal face in front of him. If anybody is even close to the word perfect in this world, it’s Zayn. And there is no objection to that that can change his mind. Zayn with his eyelashes as thick and long as a newborn baby’s, with his heart made of pure gold and love – for his family, his friends, for him. He can write poorly spelled chapters and chapters over Zayn but he’s afraid that he won’t stop if he started. He wants to whisper it to Zayn, wants to let him know. Unfortunately, he can’t. So he just listens and keeps praising Zayn in his heart, keeps thanking god because _really_ , four years ago, when he’d met Zayn, he couldn’t have even imagined that one day he’d be his. All his, fucking damn.

“You know Li, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think I’d have been- you know- I don’t think I’d have survived this,” Zayn says, touching his eyes to signify what he means, “I’d probably be in some mental hospital after a nervous breakdown-”

Liam kisses him, because he doesn’t have the strength or ability to hear more. But Zayn pushes at his chest, causing him to pull away, “No. Let me say this Li, I want to say it. Please? You need to know, and you won’t let me say this when you can talk- which you will soon, I know it. You’ll get it back because honestly Liam, you don’t deserve this. Maybe I do, but you, you’re the best person I know. And I pray every day, pray for you to get your voice back even if- I just know you’ll get your voice back, you’ll see.”

Liam wishes he could tell him how it is his words that are keeping him from losing his ground, his worlds that keep him steady and sane. He brushes Zayn’s hair out of his eyes, looks down at him with moisture in his eyes; watches, speechless (literally/metaphorically), as Zayn carries on.

“If you hadn’t been here with me, I would’ve been lost. All I see is darkness Li, it’s so terrifying. I can’t tell you how much I miss the sunlight- I mean _I_ actually miss sunlight, fuck. I can’t even explain how much I miss your face. I am dying to see you laugh, to see your face up close when you kiss me- and, and I am dying to hear your voice.”

Liam leans down, presses his nose against Zayn’s neck and breathes. He can do nothing else.

“And I’ve thought about it so many times, thought about how my life is probably over. But then there’s your face in my mind. And you’re smiling and you’re laughing and you’re emitting light and then the darkness just fades away and I know I have to stay strong. Because, I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want you to want to lose me either.”

Liam finally lets his tears fall.

“I’ll be strong for you Li, and I’ll stand beside you and I’ll hold your hand and I’ll always be here no matter what. If you’ll be with me, even if I- I am- I, you know,” Zayn gulps, “if I somehow- remain like this all my life. Please don’t go away.”

He retrieves his face from Zayn’s neck, horrified at the idea that Zayn has even considered that possibility. He’s so _stupid_ , this boy! Because (1) Zayn isn’t remaining like this all his life and (2) even if by any chance he does (they do), god forbid, he will literally chain Zayn to himself. He is not even kidding at this point.

Unable to verbally scold Zayn for even thinking that, he lightly smacks his forehead causing the boy to flinch and pout, and then he kisses him because there’s nothing else he can do. Nothing else that would be appropriate anyway.

Kisses Zayn amidst the tears that fall from his eyes onto Zayn's eyes, as he shakes his head and bites Zayn’s lips because they are his. Just like every part of Zayn is his. From the heart that hangs between his ribs to the eyes that can’t see to the legs that are tangled with his own. And he is so sure (will make sure), that they’re going to remain his, until his last breath.

—-

(niall)

“You know where to go,” he says as he gets into the car.

The engine is already running when he settles down into the backseat, and Danny, his personal driver who thankfully doesn't ask a lot of questions, is already driving them away to the carnival.

Danny had already driven there an hour ago to check if the carnival was still on, and had texted him when he had found out that yes, it was. He had thanked god then, almost falling on his knees because this was the last hope. Now he's sat in the car, wringing his hands restlessly, as he is driven into the night.

After about fifteen minutes, Danny is hitting the brakes in front of the entrance which is bedazzled with lights and balloons. He jumps out of the car, signals Danny to wait for him, covers half his face with the scarf hanging around his neck and enters.

It's like his feet know where to go because a few minutes later he is in front of a tent, which stands bright blue against the black of the night, in an abandoned corner. It's creepy because unlike other tents and booths, nobody is crowding around it.

He suddenly feels so cold, even when it's fucking September and half the time the weather makes you want to roam around naked. Taking a hopeful breath, he walks over to the curtains that are supposed to be providing an entrance, and steps inside.

A heavy scent of lilies and pansies fill his nostrils the moment he removes his scarf from his nose. He looks around, everything is the same; the array of crystal balls on the tables that lie around him, the tarot cards displayed nearly on the round one in the middle, the fairy lights that hang from the canopy plus the candles – the only source of light – illuminating the inside with a fiery glow.

“Look who came back,” a sardonic voice startles him.

His eyes find the familiar figure standing in a dark corner, half of the witch-woman is illuminated by the faint glow, the other half is immersed in the darkness.

“Hi,” he begins, “I came to apologize.”

He can discern her smirk even in the darkness. His heart might jump out his chest because she doesn't really look like she's in a forgiving mood.

“Ofcourse you are,” comes the reply as she finally leaves the shadows and walks towards him.

When she walks, the clinging sounds of her metal bangles and beads disrupt the eerie silence that hangs around them. She comes to stand right in front of him, at an arm's length maybe. The malicious smile on her face is unwavering – almost intimidating.

There is fear in the pit of his stomach, he suddenly doesn't know what to do or say. His throat feels dry, there is a heavy thrumming in his head, the fragrance of flowers is dizzying.

“I thought you didn't believe in this shit,” the woman says, her teeth are crooked. Yellowing.

“Listen,” he starts desperately, “I know what I said, I remember it all now. And I regret it, you don't know how much. But I didn't mean any of it, I swear- I was drunk! I was drunk out of my senses, I had no idea what I was doing! I am so sorry for breaking your stuff, I'll replace everything and I'll do anything you want me to do. Just forgive me.”

She's biting his lower lip, staring at him with inquisitive eyes. But she doesn't say a word.

“I don't want anything from you,” she says in a voice that stings, “And I don't care if you were drunk. Being drunk is not really an excuse, it shouldn't be an excuse for anything! And boys like you come here all the time, naïve and disrespectful. You think I don't know? You wouldn't have even come here to apologize if I hadn't cursed you. Which by the looks of it, seems to be working pretty fine.”

“I swear I am not a guy like that!” he exclaims, and he isn't, he won't even hurt a fly, “You can ask anybody! Anybody! And okay, I know I screwed up but I assure you, that even if you hadn't put this curse on us, I would've still came here! The moment it all came back to me, I swear I'd have come. C'mon, you know stuff right? You're magical or summat right? You should know that I would have come. Read my cards or something, you'll know. I'm not like this!”

There is no smile on her face now, it had dropped when the first tear has run down his cheek. Now that she has confirmed the curse, he just has to make her take it back! He's not leaving without doing something about it, anything he'd do anything. Knowing it's his fault and watching his friends suffer so badly, no, he didn't sign up for that. He is going to make things right, or else he doesn't know how he'll ever how his face to his friends again.

“Wow, it's amazing to see that a boy like you can care about stuff like that,” she says, “Somewhat, unbelievable actually. Even if I do believe you and forgive you, it won't make a difference.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, with a suffocating weight on his heart. He hadn't prepared himself for an answer like this.

“We can only put curses on people, we can't take them off.”

He can feel his heart sink, just as his knees give way too. Her words aren't words to him, they're bullets. Driving into him, striking his heart and damaging everything inside.

“Shit- shit, fuck,” he murmurs, shaking his head uncontrollably, his hands tugging at his hair because, “No, there has to be a way no."

“I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it,” she says, “Even though I do believe you.”

“There has to be a way, please please?” he pleads, his hands fold around each other in front of her, “I'll do anything, I swear! You can punish me if you want, shift the curse onto me or summat. Just make my friends better again, let Harry be okay? Liam he can't sing, he can't sing– you can take my voice instead of his! And Zayn, Zayn– please just do something? There has to be a way!”

“I am sorry I really can't-”

“You have to! Please,” he is wailing now, crying his eyes out because no- no- no- she has to be kidding him, there's always a way! Every movie he's watched, every book he's read- there's always a way! She has to do something, she has magic or whatever, she has to, “I don't even care, you can take away all my senses even- just give them back to my friends! I can't see them like this, I can't go back there and see them suffer more! They didn't even do anything, it was all my fault! Please? Help them.”

“Do you really love them so much, that you'd like to suffer instead of them?” she asks.

He nods frantically, there is no room for doubt. He actually would – even he himself didn't know that before today.

“Seriously?” she inquires.

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, he watches as she contemplates, and then, “There is a way.”

“What?”

What did she just say?

“There is one way.”

“Whatever it is, whatever I am ready to do it,” he says even before he can think properly. His heart is beating so fast, there is blood pounding in his ears. He can make things right, that tiny streak of hope is so enough.

“Tell them,” she states.

“Tell who? Tell what?” he asks, impatiently.

“Tell your friends what you did, tell them you did that to them,” she elaborates, “And if _they_ forgive you, everything will turn back to normal.”

He scrambles to get up on his feet, “I have to tell them?!”

“Yes, their forgiveness will show how much they love you. And love is the only thing known to mankind, that can break curses. That's all I can tell you.”

He has to tell them? He has to tell them. No, fuck, no. This wasn't part of the plan. But then- but then it'll be all over, he can ask for forgiveness and tell them it'll be fine and then it'll be all over. He finally has a solution, _they_ finally have a solution.

“But there's a catch,” she continues, pulling him out of the self-debate he's having, “You can't tell them their forgiveness is going to fix this. You're just going to apologize, and tell them it can't be fixed.”

Tears stings his eyes again, because what? Fuck. What?

“I can't do that,” he croaks out, his body turning cold again.

“Then I guess, there is no hope,” she replies, turning away.

“But-”

“You came here asking for forgiveness, I gave you that. You wanted a solution, I gave you that too. There's nothing else I can do. Goodbye, Niall Horan.”

Then before he can speak, she's fading back into the darkness of the back her of tent, her lurid scarves and beads disappearing with her. And he can do nothing but watch, waiting for the ground to crack open and swallow him whole.

—-

(harry)

They are in the basement. He is playing with Zayn's hair sitting on a couch, with Zayn's head on his lap, watching Louis and Liam having a go at each other at foosball. Whenever Louis goals, Liam kicks the table and when Liam goals, Louis curses at the top of his lungs. It looks pretty serious.

Zayn is humming under his breath, with his eyes closed. He doesn't even remember when he had last seen them open.

“Fuck you Liam, fuck you hard,” Louis’ voice causes him to look up from Zayn and he sniggers when he sees Liam break into a stupid dance while Louis shakes his fist at him.

Zayn giggles in his lap, “Liam scored again?”

“By the looks of it, he's won the round. Lou is furious.”

“Louis should just stop trying even, Liam is perfect at foosball,” Zayn is grinning.

He tugs Zayn's hairs in protest, causing the boy to flinch, “Ow, fuck you Haz.”

“I’ll have you know that Louis is kick ass at everything okay,” he tells Zayn, going back to play with his hair, that feel like nothing beneath his fingertips, “He's just not in his element right now.”

Zayn snorts, “In his element, yeah right. I agree he is pretty wicked at FIFA, but he pretty much sucks at foosball. Liam is the foosball king!”

He pinches Zayn's cheek, “Obviously you'd say that, you get to ride the ten inches.”

“Oh my god, fuck you,” Zayn goes red.

He laughs, “So I'm your best friend and you’ve never told me, how does it feel?”

“You're a git, and s’none of your business.”

“Okay okay, if you wanna be selfish.”

“How does that make me selfish?”

“You're the one riding that dick, and then you don't even tell me how it feels. Or at least, like let me have a go sometime,” he says. He doesn't really mean it, god no, but he likes to tease Zayn. It's how they are, this is normal - he likes normal.

“Never,” Zayn grits his teeth.

“Why?”

“You won't be able to take it.”

He throws his head back and laughs at that, Zayn is smirking triumphantly in his lap. Even Liam and Louis turn around to look at him, but he just shakes his head at them and mutters back to Zayn, “You prick.”

“Asshole.”

“I'll tell Liam you burnt his favorite Batman shirt.”

“I'll tell Louis you were talking about Liam's dick.”

“You little shit.”

“I love you too.”

He chuckles, running his hand through Zayn's hair again as he looks up to see Louis and Liam tossing a coin.

“They're going to play again,” he tells Zayn, and judging by the look on Louis' face, “Liam's just won the toss.”

“Hundred bucks Liam kicks Louis' ass again,” Zayn says loudly, this time.

“Get off my boyfriend’s lap you fucker, or keep your mouth shut,” Louis snaps at him.

Zayn laughs, and even his shut eyes crinkle. Liam blows Harry a kiss who just holds up a middle finger in response.

“Get ready Payno,” Louis is saying then, holding the rods and getting into position as Liam does the same. Then they're playing again and he is reverting his attention back to Zayn.

“Where's Niall?” Zayn asks him, after a few minutes.

“Dunno, said he had a headache and went to bed after he gobbled up lunch in like 2 minutes. He was the same at breakfast, swallowing down his food and running back to his room.”

“You should probably go check on him,” Zayn says, anxiety on his face.

“I did, before we came down here, he was asleep.”

“There's something he's not telling us,” Zayn says. Louis shouts in the distance again.

He knows Zayn is right. Niall is like that, when he has a secret. It happened when he had taken Niall's help to surprise Louis on his birthday. Niall had spent a lot of time in his room, according to him if he spent time with Louis, he'd blurt something out.

“I know,” he says to Zayn, “But I guess he'll come around. Tell us whenever he feels like it.”

“Yeah,” Zayn shrugs, sighing, “Maybe he just wants to be left alone.”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

He startles when Liam kicks the table, and Louis screams a loud, “YESSS, take that Payne!”

“Get those hundred bucks ready, because Louis might just be winning this.”

“Not a chance, Haz, Not a chance.”

—-

(louis)

He's exhausted. Beating Liam at FIFA and being beaten by Liam at foosball is a tiring business. Also, he feels so _okay_ right now. Finally falling back into his old routine, not worrying all the fucking time- he's at peace.

Only Harry is to be thanked for this. He leans back into Harry, as Harry makes him drink a glass of orange juice.

Liam is on the ground with his phone in his hand, lying on the rug near the couch he's sitting on. Zayn is snuggled beside Liam with his head buried in Liam's armpit- yeah, he doesn't know either. Zayn had fallen asleep a few minutes ago.

“Drink Louis,” Harry says, and he does take a sip from the glass in Harry's hand because Harry will not stop insisting if he doesn't.

When the orang juice is finished and Harry drops a kiss on his cheek, Niall makes an appearance.

“Hey, Niall,” Harry says, “How's your head, mate?”

Niall doesn't reply, which is weird because it's Harry and nobody ignores Harry – well, not Niall at least. He just sits on the table in front of them with his knees joined and his hand on his lap.

“Liam, would you wake Zayn up, I need to talk to you guys,” Niall says.

He's never heard Niall speak in such a pensive tone before. And maybe it's the vehemence in his voice that causes Liam to straighten up and shake Zayn awake.

Zayn slaps Liam's hands away first, but then he's rubbing his eyes and blinking them rapidly a few times before settling in Liam's lap, murmuring a “What's it?”

“Niall wants to talk to all of us,” Harry tells him.

“Where’s Niall?” Zayn asks.

“Here,” Niall answers.

“Your head fine?”

“Yeah, but that's not what I am here to talk about,” Niall says, he's obviously agitated judging by the incessant tapping of his foot.

“Yeah, okay Niall, we're listening,” he jumps in before Zayn can say something else.

There's silence after that. He keeps staring at Niall, along with the other boys. Niall's eyes scan over all of them, he mangles his hands furiously in his lap, opens and closes his mouth a few times.

He swears to god he's really never seen Niall this nervous.

“Why aren't you saying anything? Lou, is he still here?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah, what is it Niall?” Harry adds.

“I did this to you guys,” Niall finally says, rapidly.

He's very confused. And by the looks of it so are Harry, Liam and Zayn.

“What're you saying?” he asks, needing an elaboration.

“It's my fault that Zayn can't see, and Liam can't speak and Harry can't feel and you can't smell,” Niall's eyes bore into his as his mind processes Niall's words.

“What do you mean?” Zayn asks, his hand is screwed tightly around Liam's.

“I mean, you can't see because I pulled a stupid stunt with a witch woman and she put a curse on us as a result,” Niall says.

Niall speaks to Zayn but never breaks eye contact with him. The fear in Niall's eyes gives away the turmoil he's dealing with inside. Niall has always been crystal clear, he's always been an open book for Louis to read. Straightforward and direct and no secrets. So when Harry asks him the next question, Louis already kind of knows the answer.

“Niall mate, did you drink again? When did you even go out?”

“No Harry,” Niall answers, (just as he had expected), “I know this sounds like utter crap and I know you guys think I've gone bullocks but it's true. I ran into this carnival and I was drunk off my ass. Somehow I ended up in this fortuneteller's tent and she started telling me stuff and I swore at her and said things I shouldn't have said. I smashed one of her crystal balls too, and then she just lost it and told me she'd put a curse on me and the ones closes’ to me and yeah- next day Zayn woke up screaming.”

When Niall stops speaking, he feels like he's in a funeral sitting in one of the pews. Because deathly silence fills the room and nobody is saying anything and Niall looks like a deer, his round imploring eyes shifting from face to face, who has just been shot and has no chance at survival.

“You're not just making this up, are you?” Harry asks.

But really there is no need to confirm that because Niall's face says it all. He's dead serious; it shows.

“No, I wouldn’t dare,” Niall says.

There's is silence again before he decides to break it, “So a psychic woman, cursed all of us? And that is why, we're dealing with this situation?”

Niall nods.

“Wow that's pretty screwed up,” he says. He glances at Liam, who is still staring at Niall with his jaw hanging open, his hand still tightly tangled with Zayn's.

“This is impossible,” Zayn whispers, it's loud enough for all of them to hear.

“And the fact that you guys suddenly lost one of your senses isn't?” Niall asks him, and the uneasiness he's displaying clearly shows how he just wants this to be over with.

Zayn doesn't answer.

“Look guys, at first I didn't believe that the curse could actually happen too,” Niall says, “But last night I went to confront her about this- and yeah- it's the curse.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry says, leaning back into the couch, “When did my life become this?”

There are more important matters to discuss than that right now though, and apparently Liam thinks so too. Because he's nudging his leg with his own, when Louis looks at him, Liam hands him his cellphone.

He looks down at the screen and Liam's _Notes_ app is open with something typed over the white background. Since day one, Liam had been communicating with him like this, typing out stuff and showing it to him on his phone or just texting him.

He reads what Liam has written loud for everyone to hear, _‘ask him wat now? can v do sumthng about this hw can v make thngs right?_

He looks up Niall, waiting for an answer. His own heart speeds up, because this is the end right here. The answer would either be a yes, or a no. And the latter could change their lives forever. And he knows very well, that all three boys feel the exact same way. Harry has shifted forward again, Liam's gone pale again with his hand rubbing Zayn's back who is biting his lips so furiously that Louis’ afraid he might just mutilate them.

“She said,” Niall says in a low voice, and he's looking at his feet now, like maybe he doesn't want to look at them while talking, “She can do nothing about it.”

Nobody speaks for a whole, painful minute.

“So we are stuck like this forever?” he finally asks.

Niall looks up, his forehead is sweating like a pig, “Maybe.”

“But Niall-”

“I'm so sorry Louis, I'm so sorry guys,” tears fall down Niall's eyes, “You guys have to forgive me, I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“This can't be true...” it's Zayn who says that, and Liam- no.

Liam's eyes are filling with tears, and he just keeps gulping, trying to swallow them down or something.

He turns back to Niall, “Niall look, there has to be a way-”

“There isn't! Okay, Louis! There isn't! I went to her, I begged her so just something- something! But no. I'm so sorry guys, I know I am a fucking asshole and I know this is- you'll never forgive me, oh god! But please do! I am so sorry! I am such a prick! I am so so sorry!” Niall is crying now, he's a mess in front of him and he can't even bring himself to reach out and hold him. He feels like if he moves, even an inch, he'll shatter into a million pieces.

He's too shocked. He can't think he can even speak. What would he say anyway? There is no point anymore, everything is fucking insane. And it's like Niall's words, had sucked out every speck of hope he had had inside him.

Then there's a loud distinct sniff and his heart is gripped with worry when he turns around to see if Harry's crying. Because _no_ , he isn't ready for that yet.

But Harry's leaned back, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable yet a frightening expression on his face.

“Liam, babe, Liam are you-”

Zayn's unfinished questions is what pulls his eyes away from Harry and glance at Liam.

Liam's face isn't pale anymore, it's a light shade of crimson. He's gulping and breathing heaving and Zayn's hands are on his chest, rubbing, “Li- Liam..”

Louis has never seen Liam like this before in his life. Not when Zayn was forced into an engagement and not when Liam hadn't made it through the X-factor by himself. He wants to reach over to Liam but he's _so_ afraid.

Then Liam screams – or he tries to. But no sound comes out. And the look that's etched into his features make Niall sob violently.

He's so glad Zayn's can't see. Because he doesn't want to know what Liam's state would have done to him.

Before he can even complete that train of thought, he witnesses the unexpected. Liam's pushed Zayn off him, and he's standing up, turning away. He watches as Zayn shrieks and scrambles up to reach Liam's hand or his shirt or his something but he fails and falls right on his face. Liam doesn't look back, and Harry is out of his seat, running towards Zayn and Niall has somehow teleported to his room and is slamming the door shut and Liam is shutting the door of his room with a bang on the other side. Zayn's screaming for Liam, ‘Liam, Liam please! Leave me Harry! Take me to Liam! Liam, LIAM!’, his arms flailing wildly in front of him as he tries to escape from Harry's grasp.

And he? He's just frozen on the spot, he can not cope. _**Why is he in hell?!**_

—-

(liam)

The raging monster he had been holding back is free now, and he has no control over it.

He's sat on the floor, with his back pressed against the door he has just slammed real hard, and he doesn't know what to do. He can't scream, he can't even bring himself to cry – it feels like his life is over.

Since the age of four he had just wanted to sing, had spent three quarters of his life devoted to singing and now, now he can't not only sing but he can't fucking speak either. So many songs he still hasn't sung, so many songs he still hasn't said. And even he can use sign language and stuff to converse in the future, he'll never be able to communicate with Zayn.

Even if he can convey stuff to him by tracing patterns on his skin, they won't be able to do that in public. He won't be able to do that with larger words and sentences. Zayn won't be able to read if he writes, he won't be able to see if he signals him to do something. Zayn won't be able to paint and draw! Won't be able to see his sisters, his mother, his father. Zayn who had so much faith in His God, in how things will be okay. Zayn who is outside, screaming for him, and crying – howling. There are fists pounding on the door, and there are Zayn's wails just behind him.

“Liam please open the door, Liam please!”

He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what to do! He does not want to see Zayn, because if he does he'll just crumble. He can't be strong for Zayn anymore, he feel so useless. The monster in his chest is roaring, there's a stampede going on in his head.

He lets out a cry of anguish, the sound of which he never hears. Getting to his feet, he turns around and he starts kicking the wall. He's so furious, so angry. At what, at whom, he has no idea. He just wants to break things down, just wants to finish everything because this isn't fair to him, or to Zayn.

He doesn't care, doesn't even flinch, when his knuckles bleed and pain shoots up his arms as he punches the wall with every ounce of force he can put in. He just boxes with the wall, amidst Zayn's cries (‘liam liam please liam’) and Harry's shouts (‘open the fucking door for fuck's sake!’). He's trying to make all these sounds, he's even trying to grunt but all he hears is the thumps of his fists striking the wall, and Zayn weeping and slapping the door violently outside.

“Liam- please don't shut- me out!” he hears Zayn say between hiccups, and he stops the punching instantly because Zayn sounds more broken than he feels inside, “I'm here Liam please don't abandon me- *hiccup* like this Liam, please- *hiccup* I love you, let- *hiccup* me in!”

Zany sounds wrecked. And it makes his heart ache real bad. He doesn't care now, he really doesn't care if he feels feeble as fuck. He doesn't care if Zayn sees him like this, he just can't let a door stand between them anymore. He needs Zayn, more than Zayn needs him. And more than he'll ever care to admit. He doesn't want to drown and he knows how nothing can anchor him but Zayn.

With his bloody, shaking hands he unlocks the door that still vibrates under Zayn's rapid knocks and he throws to open. Zayn is down on the ground, Harry is right behind him with his hands wrapped around his waist. Both their faces blotchy. He doesn't get time to see where Louis is because Zayn's hands are coming in contact with his legs and he is scrambling up towards him, hands knotting in his clothes to pull himself up. Harry is watching him, with round scared eyes, like he's seen a Dementor. But Liam doesn't have time to ponder over that, he just bends down to pull Zayn up. Then pull Zayn inside and slam the door back shut again.

The moment Zayn's inside, he wraps his arms around him in a crushing hug and pushes him back against the wall, his hand sandwiching between Zayn's back and the hard surface. He doesn't care if they pain, doesn't care if the wall will have red-brown marks on it later, doesn't give a fuck. He just presses his forehead against Zayn's, stares at the upper side of eyelids and then- he just- he just- _breaks._

He lets the dam break lose, lets the tears come out without restriction this time. Sobs violently, his nose against Zayn's. And Zayn doesn't say a word, he's sniffing, there are tears glistening on his eyelashes, his chest is heaving. But he keeps holding Liam, a thin firm arm around his waist and his trembling hand caressing Liam's left cheek. Nothing stops Liam, the grief keeps falling down unstoppable from his eyes. He clings to Zayn to keep himself from sinking.

“Baby, baby, Li,” is all Zayn is saying to him and he is grateful because he doesn't want to hear meaningless shit like ‘it's gonna be fine, it will be okay’ right now.

Then Zayn is pushing him back, but doesn't let go of his waist. He keeps pushing him back, while counting under his breath. When he reaches the number nine, the back of Liam's legs hit the edge of their bed. And then Zayn's pushing him down, forcing him to sit, clambering over him when he does. Zayn makes him lie down, his head hitting the pillow, and then straddles him, using his searching hands to find where his face is.

Then Zayn is kissing him all his face, massaging his forehead and wiping away his tears and muttering stuff that he doesn't hear because he's sniffing and sobbing so fiercely. Zayn is trembling over him, and he's also shaking underneath him, sobs being wrenched out of his body.

“Liam, Liam, love,” the words are being showered upon him but he can't answer.

So he just curls into Zayn's body, who shifts to hold him closer. They don't ever do this, it's always Zayn curling into him. But he doesn't care, he is falling – too fast – and only Zayn can keep him from hitting rock bottom.

—-

(zayn)

Thankfully, Liam has calmed down. He still sniffs once in a while, but he feels relaxed beside him.

He is skimming his fingers through Liam's short hair, various thoughts in his mind; he’ll never see again, he’ll never hear Liam's voice again, he’ll never see his family, how will he tell his mom? It's devastating, how now it's finalized; nothing is going to be okay.

 _‘Z a y n,’_ Liam traces into his skin.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice is cracked.

_‘I T S O K A Y.’_

He's caught off guard by that, Liam had been shaking with misery a few moments ago. But he nods anyway, what else can he do? He is so tired, feels so weak. He just wants to go to sleep – maybe never wake up – and wants to block everything out forever, everything except the smell of Liam and the feel Liam.

There's a slight knock on his door, and he feels Liam getting up.

“Forget it, Li,” he says, clutching whichever of Liam's body part is nearest to him, “I don't want to-”

Liam cuts him off obviously, pressing his lips firmly against his, as if trying to say how _it's okay, i'm here._ So he lets Liam go, and nods.

There is another urgent knock, followed by Louis' voice, “It's been three hours, open up, Liam fuck.”

He hears the door click open, then footsteps.

“Don't ever do that again, both of you,” Louis is saying, “There's no need to stay shut in a room alone for so long!”

A big hand touches his cheek, he leans into it.

“You okay?” Harry murmurs to him, it's only for him to hear.

He replies in a low whisper too, “No, not really.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Harry tells him.

Liam's body comes in contact with his side, as Liam settles beside him and throws his arm around his back again, Harry's hand vanishing simultaneously.

“Zayn, how're you doing?” it's Louis who asks that, by the direction of his voice he can judge Louis is sitting somewhere on the bed too. He can feel Harry's weight beside his legs.

“Okay, I guess,” he lies. Because that was a stupid question.

“Liam, you mate?

Again, stupid question. And Liam must have responded with a nod or something because Louis is saying, “So if we are all done freaking out, I guess we could talk about this.”

“What's there to talk about?” he asks.

“By this, I meant we could talk about Niall,” Louis answers.

“Niall isn't here?” he asks. _Stupid question._

“No, he hasn't been out of his room since- you know- since he told us.”

“Did you guys check on him?”

“No.”

And he doesn't know what to say. Would _he_ have checked on Niall? At a moment like this? Yeah, maybe not.

“I think he's asleep,” Harry says. “It's like after eleven anyway.”

“I don't think so- I don't think he can sleep right now, I don't think any of us can,” Louis counters.

“I know it's Niall's fault that we are all stuck like this,” Harry is saying, “But he didn't mean it, I guess that changes things?”

He snorts, because how does that change things? They're still all suffering. Liam still can't talk!

“Zayn, Liam, are you guys mad at him?” Louis asks, in a concerned voice.

He doesn't know how he feels towards Niall right now. He doesn't hate Niall, no. He could never do that, he doesn't even know why. It's just that Niall is well, _Niall._ And he's been there for him when so many people haven't been. And he's always felt so protective over him, naturally. But the fact that Niall would do something so stupid, that it'd cost Liam his voice, just doesn't sit down well with him. He kind of wants to punch Niall, just for the sake of it. So he stays quiet, he doesn't know how he feels. He's a conflicted mess.

Liam is shifting beside him, he doesn't know what he's doing so he asks, “What're you doing Liam?”

“He's typing,” Harry answers.

“Oh,” he says.

He waits for Liam to type, and then after a crucial minute or two, Harry is saying, “Now he's handed over the mobile to Louis-”

“-and I'm reading out what he has written,” Louis completes, “What's done is done, we can't be mad at Niall forever. It'll be hard to get over this, it is hard but I guess we can mangle it- mangle it? mangle- manage it, fuck Liam how do even spell?- anyway we can manage it. There's no point in staying mad at him, he clearly regrets what he's done, he is one of us. He needs us too- he is family.”

He will never understand Liam, or his heart or his good will or his anything. Because he's sitting here wanting to just _do_ something to Niall – he just wants to calm his demons – because Liam can't fucking sing and Liam is just- he's just- what the fuck is he- why did he fall in love with him? (or maybe this is the exact reason why he did)

“That's exactly what Louis said,” Harry says, “I mean- it's better to stay together at a time like this.”

“You guys do realize that Liam can't ever sing right?” he says, not really meaning to sound so satirical.

Liam's grip tightens around him, and then Louis is saying in a clipped tone, “Yeah. And Harry can't ever feel, and you can't ever see. I can't smell and Niall, Niall can't taste. Because of which he's nearly stopped eating, in case you didn't know that.”

He didn't know that, nobody had told him Niall had stopped eating. Niall had stopped eating? Niall?

“We all have it bad, Zayn. We can just hide it better,” Harry says, while rubbing his feet.

He doesn't know what to say, he knows they're all suffering. But- they can still fucking see Liam. They can still pretend to their mom's and the fans how they're fine. He doesn't know, doesn't even want to think right now. He suddenly wants to sleep, he feels so drained, a slight ache is starting at the back of his head.

“I don't hate Niall,” he says, “I really don't. I just don't know how I feel about this right now. I don't know- it'll just always remind me how it's his fault- I just. Guys- I really need to just- can you leave me alone with Li? Can we talk about this later?”

Liam is rubbing his back now, and Harry replies after a heavy pause, “Sure. But we need to- you need to make up your mind Zayn. Niall will probably die if you aren't okay with him, you know he loves you.”

“Think about this bro,” Louis says, “Liam is right. We do have a right to be angry at him and give him a hard time, but there is no point. And we'll also have to break this to the management soon, we need to be _together_ when doing that. We can't afford to fall apart, we already have too much.”

He nods, biting his lip. His head is pounding, he wants to just drown into Liam's touch now. He doesn't want to think. His emotions and feelings are conflicted. He is sad, he is furious, he feels like he is falling down into a deep well, he is so exhausted. And it's so _so_ dark. Pitch black and it's always going to be like that. _Fuck._

“We'll leave you two then, but Zayn, think about this. If Liam can forgive him, so can you,” Louis tells him.

He doesn't reply.

He feels one of the boy's pat his head, gently. It's not Liam because he knows Liam's touch. And he can't tell if it's Harry or Louis.

There is a soft ‘night lads’ directed at them, before the sound of fading footsteps and of the door clicking shut, few minute later. Instinctively, he hugs Liam to himself, and curls into him. Liam's hands are quick to envelop him, guiding them both into a lying position. He hears the distinct sound of Liam switching the lamp off.

Silence hangs around him, he delves in it. Liam traces mindless patterns onto his back. He knows they're not alphabets because the press of his fingers isn't insisting or forceful. It's soft and soothing. He kisses Liam's neck, or he thinks it's Liam's neck.

Liam holds him tighter.

After what seems like an hour, Liam finally doses off. He knows because (1) he's still awake and (2) Liam's hand has stopped running up and down his back and (3) his breathing is slow and even and peaceful. He wanted so much to sleep a few minutes ago and now it feels like his mind hates him because it refuses to shut down.

He lies awake for what seems like another hour or two, thinking and thinking and thinking, before he's snoring into Liam's chest.

He dreams about Niall that night; Niall walking with his back towards the edge of a roof as he shouts at Niall to stop. And then Niall falls, and he shouts and everything goes pitch black again.

It's the first time he's dreamed of anything after he lost his sight.

—-

There is a weight on top of him, it's crushing. It's the gentle kind of crushing though, the one he likes even when it is very much capable of breaking his bones.

He smiles in the pillow he's lying on, shifting around to push Liam off and crawl back onto him. When he turns around though, Liam still spread over him, the black that surrounds him fades into a flaming shade of orange.

He snaps his eyes open and the light is blinding, the kind of blinding that he associates with the hundreds of cameras flashing. And then- then, a familiar, almost ethereal face is materializing in front of his eyes.

He blinks rapidly. And then he sees Liam's face, breathing into his neck. Angelic and peaceful.

He blinks agains. Once, twice. Then again. And Liam doesn't disappear.

He looks at the side table, the digital clock reads _13 : 30_. He is checking the time himself. He looks at the curtains, spread wide, the sunlight falling in. Illuminating the room, no more darkness.

What is happening? Is this a dream too? What? He can see again?

He can see again.

“Liam? Liam, wake up, Liam, wake up!” he is shaking Liam now, pushing him off himself frantically.

Liam flutters his eyes open, his face shows nothing but confusion as he squints at him. Liam is so so so so beautiful, fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“Oh my god Liam,” he says, “Oh my god.”

Liam touches his cheek, he doesn't say a word, he just caresses it very gently. He's worried.

“I can see Liam, I can see you!” and he's so happy, and he's climbing over Liam the next second and grabbing his face in his hands. Then he's kissing Liam full on the lips and he's smiling into the kiss. Liam has his hands on either side of his face now.

Finally he pulls back, “I can see Liam, I can see you Liam! Oh my god, I've missed you! You're fucking flawless!”

He leans down to smash his lips against Liam's again, but he's stopped by Liam's hands pressing into his chest.

Liam is staring at him, his bottom lip between his teeth. He watches as Liam gulps and- _oh._ This means Liam can talk? This means-

“Zayn.”

_FFFFFUUUUUCKKKKKKK._

Liam's lips crack into a huge smile and his eyes disappear into thin lines, wrinkles forming beside them and _he’s fucking missed this_.

“Zayn, Zayn, oh god Zayn,” Liam has years in his eyes, they're not the sad kind, “I can-”

“Yes, yes, oh my god,” he says, he's blabbering and he doesn't care! He can see Liam! He can see! Liam can talk again! FUCK.

“I love you Zayn, I love you so fucking much Zayn! I thought I'd never be able to say that again, oh my god fuck, I love you I love you I love you,” Liam says to him, and then Liam's pulling him in by the neck. Their lips open as they collide, Liam's tongue taking all his breath away.

_Fuck._

—-

(niall)

They've been knocking on his door since the last five minutes or so.

He's just standing in front of it watching it shake. Mustering up the courage to face them. He knows he can't run away for long, he has to face them one day anyway. He can't run away from them. They're very dear to him, his magic beans.

So with heavy steps he reaches the door and he unlocks it, pulling it open to reveal all four of them standing there.

Harry has his arms around Louis, who is looking very solemn. And Zayn is standing with his hand in Liam's, both wearing serious expressions.

“Hey there, Niall,” Louis says, his tone isn't happy, “How are you?”

“I am sorry guys, I really am,” it just slips off his tongue, like it's the only thing he can say to them.

“You should be,” Zayn states, and Liam nods.

He wants to cry again, even when his eyes feel numb from doing that all night.

“You should probably buy each one of us a Lamborghini to apologize,” Louis says.

“Yeah, and also a personal golf course for me,” Harry adds.

He is taken aback and confused, but he just nods instantly because he'd do anything at this point.

“Wow, did he seriously just agree to that?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah, he did,” Liam laughs.

He's about to tell them he'd really do anything- but- wait.

Did Liam just- did Zayn just- did they just-

He looks at them with eyes wide, he can feel a weight lift of his chest as he asks, “How did you- Liam how did you just-”

“Calm down you fucker,” Louis says, “We are all okay. We have our senses back!”

He cannot believe it! They are okay, they're all okay? He's okay? They forgave him? They forgave him? They- knowing that they might be disabled in some way all their lives- they forgave him!?

“Oh my god,” he says, “You can see Zayn? You can see?”

“Yeah mate, and you look like shit.”

Liam punches Zayn lightly, “Don't be hard on him, he's been sad.”

LIAM IS TALKING.

“Oh my god!” he exclaims, and then he's jumping onto both Liam and Zayn (since Louis is still occupied) and they're hugging him back with the same amount of affection.

“Haz, will you mind? There's a group hug happening in the vicinity that I'd like to be a part of?” Louis says to Harry.

And Harry just, “No. I am not leaving you until I've learnt how you feel in my arms, again.”

Zayn chuckles at that, and Louis makes a fond face opening his arms with Harry's arms still around his waist. He is crying when he moves into Louis' embrace and then Liam and Zayn are hugging him from behind. He can't believe they're all okay, just last night he had thought of never watching them smile again.

He cries into Louis' shoulder, Harry kisses his head somewhere during that and Liam's hands are on his back and Zayn is telling him he loves him in his ear – and yeah, he is finally right where he belongs.

And everything is right how it should be.

—-

(louis + harry)

Louis tells Harry to let go of him when he's making breakfast and Niall is gobbling down dry cereal.

Harry replies with a, “No.”

And he has to fry the eggs with Harry pressed behind him, his arms clasped around his waist.

—-

He tells Harry to let go of him when Liam is singing sitting on the couch, and Zayn and Niall are performing a poor couple dance to the song.

“No.”

So he sits on Harry's lap, with his arms around his neck.

—-

He tells Harry to please let him go when he goes to wee, but-

“No.”

So he wees, with Harry standing beside him and looking away pointedly, with his arm thrown over his shoulders.

—-

He tells Harry to let go of him when they're talking to a very ecstatic Paul-

“No.”

And he stands beside Louis, with his arm around Louis’.

—-

(the only moment when he lets go of louis, is when zayn hugs him and he has to hug zayn, and then he pulls his hair, and then zayn punches him in the stomach, and he licks zayn's cheek telling him he's missed seeing his eyes open – zayn beams. harry is happy because everybody is.).

—-

They walk back into the confinement of their room, sometime after dinner (three slices of the three pizzas niall had ordered) Harry still glued to his back with arms around his waist like a leech.

A very pretty leech.

Once they're inside, Harry just drags him to the bed and then Louis is falling down on the sheets on his back and Harry is all over him.

“Haz-”

“No shut up, I'm not letting go of you. I'm never letting go of you, you have no idea how much I've missed you!”

“I know, you told me this morning, remember?” Louis smirks at him.

He'll never forget this day's morning. When he had woken up to smell of oranges; Harry's hair. And Harry had woken up with a stunned expression, which had changed into that of pure delight when he had poked Louis' cheek. Once, twice, over and over.

And if Louis had climbed over him then, pressing him into the mattress and making him feel _everything, everywhere_ , that's really none of anybody's business.

“No, I don't remember anything except the fact that I can feel you underneath me and you're already hard,” Harry bites his ear. Harry wants him so much, he can't even fucking explain.

He hadn't realized, but yeah, he is. Anybody would be, if they had a panting Harry sprawled over them.

“You're going to do something about it then?” he mutters back, teasingly.

“Fuck you,” Harry growls, Louis is fucking impossible!

He relishes in it.

“Good, I'd like that,” Louis chuckles.

“I'm going to memorize how you feel against me by heart again,” Harry grinds down on him, making Louis moan involuntarily.

And he means it, he won't stop until the feel if every part of Louis’ body against his is imprinted on his mind. And with that thought, he looks into Louis’ azure eyes, and tears open the front of his button-down.

—-

(zayn + liam)

Zayn absolutely, positively loves it when Liam leaves him all wet after cumming inside him. It tickles when he feels it dripping down his hole, it makes him smile.

It makes him feel Liam’s; that is hands down the most amazing feeling in the world. (having liam inside him is a close second).

Liam discards the shirt he had used to wipe them both off somewhere on the floor, and turns back to Zayn. Who quickly slides into his arms, whilst Liam pulls the duvet over them. When Zayn is rested against him, his head lying over Liam's beating heart and his hand clasped around Liam's underneath the duvet, he looks up at the boy. He is such a- very so much- really beautiful. There is no other word in Zayn's vocabulary except that one when it comes to Liam. The faint lamplight only brightens his features more, and oh fuck, he is missed this so much. Missed looking at Liam. Missed Liam looking down at him like this, eyes happy and content.

Liam can't help but beam down at him, his eyes raking over his face, taking in the sparkle of his eyes. The dim light of the lamp illuminates Zayn's face in a spiritual way – he looks no less than an angel who's somehow just ended up in his bed, in his arms.

“What, baby?” he asks Zayn, because he is staring at him like he has hung the moon from the ceiling or something.

Zayn shakes his head, his leg sliding between Liam's entangling with his. Liam feels a certain wetness on his thigh, and he disentangles his hand from Zayn's to bring it up and trace a line with his finger from Zayn's nose down to his lips, “I'm still inside you, in a way, you know.”

Zayn goes red, and nips at his finger, making him chuckle. He keeps tracing patterns on his cheek, Zayn’s eyes never leave his face. His eyes never leave Zayn’s.

“You're very pretty,” he tells Zayn, because Zayn's staring is making him very self-aware and also a bit shy if he's being honest.

Zayn snorts and rolls his eyes, trust Liam to steal his words.

“I'm serious, promise. The most beautiful person I've ever seen,” Liam tells him, pinching his nose, “And I'm so lucky to have you, like this, with me.”

Zayn blushes again, “Stop it.”

He tightens his hold around Zayn, pulling him even closer.

“Mine mine mine mine,” he says, leaning down to brush his nose against Zayn's. Whose cheeks are tainted red, he hates when Liam makes him feel like this.

“You're so embarrassing, fuck,” he says, fondly. And Liam pouts for a second, before tickling his side with the arm that's around him.

“No Li,” he giggles, hiding his face in Liam's neck, “Okay okay, I'm sorry, stop!”

“Even your laughter is pretty,” Liam teases him further, “So so so so so pretty.”

“You're quite **Masha’Allah** yourself,” he murmurs into Liam's neck.

“What?” Liam asks, clearly not understanding, reducing the tickling to just tracing patterns on Zayn's waist.

“Nothing,” Zayn shakes his head, “I just love you.”

“You said something in Urdu?”

“Arabic.”

“Yeah, I hate it when you talk in Urdu or Arabic, it's frustrating, because I don't understand it now you'll never tell me what you said,” Liam pouts again.

He touches Liam's cheek, “I'll teach you one day. Then you'll know.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, if you'd like-”

“I'd love,” he pecks Zayn's lips, because the knowledge that Zayn would actually go through the pain of teaching him another language (one that he holds close to his heart and never speaks in front of anybody except his family and Liam), makes his heart melt like wax of fire.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“You're the best.”

It's Liam's turn to blush, only that he's better at hiding it. So he just cups Zayn's face and kisses him once more. Sweet and long.

When he pulls back, Zayn clasps his hand again. Their entangled fists lie on his chest, and they stare at each other some more. Sleep seems like a distant idea; Zayn doesn't want to plunge into darkness again, Liam wants to stare into those eyes he's missed so much for a few more hours at least.

“Sing to me Li,” Zayn says.

“What song?” because Liam can never say no to that expectant look in those twinkling eyes. He could get drunk off them, drown in them like in red wine.

“Any song, just sing to me, I've missed your voice terribly,” Zayn smiles, his insides are tingling and he has no idea why. He has a theory though; maybe it's because he's so irrevocably in love with Liam that there is no chance of pulling himself out now. Yeah, that should be it.

“Okay,” Liam says, and slides his hand up the back of Zayn's waist, to tangle it in Zayn's soft hair.

Zayn tightens his grip around Liam's, hand, as Liam looks straight into his eyes and he sings for him, letting all his emotions drain into the song.

****_‘You're my world,_  
the shelter from the rain.  
You're the pills,  
that take away my pain.  
You're the light...’ 

**Author's Note:**

>  ****  
> [the meaning of Masha'Allah](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masha'Allah)  
>     
> the larry song: **[it is what it is - kacey musgraves](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6GWckNEIEE)**
> 
> the ziam song: **[tangled up in you - STAIND](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qWHl89W6D0)**
> 
> more fics on **[tumblr.](http://www.ziamasf.tumblr.com/)**


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